Whole again Sirius
by Leila B
Summary: Dumbledore needs a new spy who will pass Voldemort's scrutiny. Claire needs a husband to keep her family off her back. Severus got Laurel, Remus is courting Serene. So who's left to love, honor and obey ... obey? you wish! ... but Sirius Black? COMPLETE
1. An Unlikely Alliance

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns all main characters and settings. The fact that I love them all does not give me any property rights. So the HP-crew is JK's, but Claire, Laurel and Serene are mine.  
  
AN: "Whole again - Sirius" is a sequel of (guess) "Whole again - Severus". I just could not let go. If you liked Laurel and Serene, you'll meet them again as well as a few new characters.  
  
You may want to read "Whole again - Severus" first to get a better understanding of what is going on ...  
  
Language (as in foreign language) is still an issue. So if some of the grammar sounds German, let me know.  
  
Rating: R - for what is about to happen.  
  
  
  
WHOLE AGAIN - Sirius  
  
  
  
1. An Unlikely Alliance  
  
  
  
"You see, there is no way out of my dilemma."  
  
Claire Winterstorm blinked away the tears she had been fighting for the last day or so. She'd cry as soon as she arrived home. But not here, not in Albus Dumbledore's office. She had cried here once before and it had not saved her. The portraits of the late Headmasters looked down at her as if they remembered her weeping - and they probably did.  
  
"There is always a way out, Claire." Dumbledore passed her a handkerchief. "I am sure there is a solution we all shall profit from. And while I am thinking, why don't you cry?"  
  
Her posture shattered. She curled up in the chair and allowed the tears to flow freely. Twenty years ago she had sworn to herself she'd never ever set a foot into that wretched school again. And now she knew no other place to turn to for help. The fates really had a twisted sense of humour.  
  
Dumbledore paced the circular study and stopped once in a while at Fawkes' perch to rub the softly cooing bird between the eyes. The usually so beautiful phoenix was in bad shape. He had lost most of his bright feathers. The phoenix blinked and flew with some effort off to Claire. Sitting on the armrest he nudged the crying woman until she allowed him to sit on her lap. He buried his head in the crook of her arm and fell asleep there.  
  
"He will be going up in flames soon. It makes him weary and miserable." Dumbledore smiled faintly and took up his pacing. Eventually he consulted a piece of parchment which appeared to be a map of the school grounds.  
  
"Of course. He is teaching right now."  
  
"Huh?" Claire blew her nose.  
  
"Do you feel better? Let us take a little walk, my dear."  
  
She sniffed. "Sorry. I just couldn't ..."  
  
"I have come to the conclusion that there is a certain point when the tears threaten to flood not only the heart but the brain. Then one has to cry."  
  
"I usually don't give in so easily."  
  
He smiled at her and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I remember you as a little girl, you were never one for crying in public."  
  
Claire smirked and took the hand he offered her. "Crying would have only made it worse." She had her voice in check again. "Once they see they can hurt you, they will."  
  
"Children, " Dumbledore sighed and opened the great entrance door. "They can be awfully cruel."  
  
  
  
They walked across the vast lawn in front of the castle, past Professor Hooch and her broom class, and down to the Quidditch grounds. From afar Claire could see a small group of students sit in the grass, in a semicircle around a large black dog. The students, a mixed lot of fifth to seventh years of all houses, were discussing and it appeared almost as if the dog answered their questions.  
  
Dumbledore clapped his hands to get the attention of the group. The dog looked at them out of intelligent dark eyes and barked twice when Dumbledore said: "Professor White, may we interrupt your class?"  
  
The animal took off towards the changing cabins at the back of the Quidditch stands. Dumbledore looked at the students.  
  
"Now, have you mastered this very advanced art yet?"  
  
One of the fifth years from Gryffindor laughed. "Professor White says to be patient. So that is what we do, most of the time."  
  
"Patience is a virtue, Harry. Even you will acknowledge that one day."  
  
The Headmaster waved his wand and a faint bell rung. "Oh, class is over already," he gave the students a smile and a wink. "Off you all go."  
  
Claire stared after the boy and his friends, who ran for their brooms that leaned at the fence. Within minutes a fast and rather rough game of Quidditch was on.  
  
"Is he ..."  
  
"Yes, "Dumbledore nodded. "The boy who lived."  
  
"I heard about him. Coco told me he had a scar on his forehead."  
  
"Coco?"  
  
"One of my house-elves. She is rather fond of the tabloids. The boy is somewhat of a celebrity in my household."  
  
"Unfortunately he is a celebrity in all the wizarding world. Which means half of them are gaping at him while the other half tries to kill him."  
  
Claire swallowed hard. "I heard about … the incident last year at the tournament."  
  
"Did you? The Ministry tried their best to keep it under wraps."  
  
"The elf-network. My elves and the Hogwarts elves are in close contact."  
  
He chuckled. "So while you were supposedly living in a prison you knew more about what went on than Fudge himself."  
  
She did not answer but twisted a strand of fair hair nervously between her fingers, a habit Dumbledore remembered as well as her talent for silence. So he kept talking.  
  
"Professor White is an Animagus. We try to keep the class out here, where they can use the Quidditch facilities to change back into human form."  
  
"But I remember Professor McGonagall changing fully clothed?"  
  
"The less clothing the less energy is needed. Therefore the changing cabin. After all, it won't do to have naked wizards running around the grounds."  
  
"No, it probably won't." She nodded seriously.  
  
Dumbledore watched her from the corner of his eyes. He had intended the last remark as a joke, to cheer her up a little. She was way too serious, but then she had been an exceptionally serious little girl.  
  
A tall man approached them from the changing cabins, his head still stuck in the depths of a red sweater.  
  
"Gryffindor," muttered Claire.  
  
Dumbledore took her lightly at the elbow. "Claire, let me introduce you to Professor …"  
  
The wizard had eventually found the neck of the sweater and came up for air. Tousled black hair fell into dark blue eyes that almost appeared black. Strong cheekbones accentuated a very male face, with no soft features but long thick lashes. Claire forgot to breathe for a second.  
  
"You!" she hissed.  
  
The wizard stared at her and frowned. His eyes darted to Dumbledore and back to Claire.  
  
"Do I know you?"  
  
"Well you probably don't," her voice was so soft he could hardly hear her. "Pitty is I do, Sirius Black."  
  
She turned on her heel and started towards the castle.  
  
Sirius stared at the small witch's back as if a bludger had hit him. "What is her problem?"  
  
The Headmaster shrugged and chuckled. "Why don't you find out? Better hurry before she tells all of Hogwarts that you are Sirius Black and not Professor White."  
  
"But the charm! How could she recognise me?"  
  
"I really have no idea, Sirius. You'll catch her, won't you? I am expecting the two of you in my study."  
  
The old wizard Disapparated and left Sirius standing. He sighed exasperatedly and went after the witch. She seemed familiar … the fair hair, the grey eyes. But he could not put a name on her. Probably she was somebody's sister or friend.  
  
His legs were longer and it took but a few strides to catch up with her. He stepped in front of her to block her way and had her run right into him.  
  
Claire shook with unfamiliar anger. This was a bad day, oh yes, this was probably the worst day in the worst week of her life. First the very unpleasant discussion with cousin Valerius, and now this. Sirius Black of all wizards!  
  
He blocked her like a keeper would block a pass at Quidditch. Claire's head reached barely to his shoulder but that gave her the advantage of surprise. She walked straight under his outstretched arm.  
  
Sirius lost what little patience he had. "What for Merlin's sake is the matter? Should I remember you, Miss?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Listen, I don't have time for this. How come you recognise me?"  
  
He was worried. The Aurors were still after him, even searching Hogsmeade now and then, and there was still a warrant with his picture pinned to the wall of the owl office. The Incognito charm Professor Flitwick had developed, had fooled everybody until now. People would look at him and see a pleasant if nondescriptive face. Minutes later they would have difficulties to describe him or recognise him in a crowd. Of all the students in Hogwarts only Harry knew his true identity. And now this strange witch took a mere glimpse at him and called him by his true name.  
  
"You gave me reason enough to remember you, didn't you, Black? But then I was just one of your many victims, so why would you remember me?"  
  
She turned away and there was something in her eyes, in the way she kept her head up, that transported him years back into the past.  
  
"Claire Winterstorm," he said slowly. "The Hufflepuff Princess."  
  
Claire winced when she heard the hated name. "Just leave me alone."  
  
"Stop!" He took a step and grabbed her arm to hold her back. "Quit running away. It makes me nervous."  
  
"What do you want?" She could not bear to look at him. It was bad enough to be back to Hogwarts where all the troubles and hardship had started.  
  
"Dumbledore wants to see us in his study. Now."  
  
"You may tell him I am not interested any more. And let go of my arm!"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius frowned. "Oh, Lady Winterstorm orders her humble servants around as usually."  
  
"I am not …" She drew a deep breath to gather some countenance. "I am not ordering you around. I simply ask you to let go of my arm."  
  
He dropped his hand at once and stepped back. "One better sees Dumbledore if he suggests so."  
  
"I know." Her voice trembled all of a sudden with fatigue and sorrow. For a moment Sirius was afraid she might faint right into his arms, but then she pulled herself together and walked across the lawn towards the castle.  
  
He could do nothing but follow her grumbling.  
  
* * *  
  
Claire perched on a chair by the desk as if she'd jump up any minute and run from the office. Sirius remained standing and kept a vigilant position next to the door. She would not leave before she gave an explanation how she had undone the Incognito charm.  
  
"Well, well." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Who of you is going to fill me in?"  
  
"He made my life hell when I was at school." Claire blushed to the roots of her fair hair.  
  
The Headmaster gave her a sheepish grin. "I forgot you knew each other."  
  
"He embarrassed me in front of everybody. He made up that name …"  
  
The old wizard eyed Sirius quizzically. "Name?"  
  
Sirius squirmed. "Hufflepuff Princess." Impatiently he waved his hand at the woman. "She behaved like one for sure. She ordered everybody around. By Gryiffindor, she even brought her very own slave!"  
  
"Ygor was not my slave!" Claire still couldn't say the name without feeling a stab of pain. "He was my friend."  
  
"He slept on the floor in front of her bedroom!"  
  
She avoided his eyes that were full of condescension. "That was not my idea."  
  
"Don't forget it was I as Headmaster of this school who allowed this particular arrangement," reminded Dumbledore. "I had my reasons."  
  
"Somehow he found out that Ygor would let me take a walk all alone once in a while at night time when I could not sleep. And he …" she drew in a shuddering breath, "he cast a spell on Ygor and made him forget that I was out on the grounds."  
  
Sirius pressed his lips together.  
  
"I was lost somewhere past the Quidditch field. I waited. Ygor did not come …"  
  
"And of course Princess Claire could not just use her wand to light the way and lead her back to the castle like us commoners."  
  
"I understand, Claire, that you bear a grudge. No, Sirius, not now," he blocked off Sirius' angry protest. "But you are not students anymore. You are both grown ups, even if your behaviour lets me fear else. Now, there is the charm that does not work anymore. Do we have an explanation for that?"  
  
He turned to Fawkes who was whistling softly and looking at Claire with pleading eyes. "Dear girl, would you?"  
  
"Oh Fawkes, I am sorry." She jumped up and lifted the bird off his perch. Cradling the plucked phoenix in her arms she returned to her chair.  
  
"The charm, Albus," Sirius insisted with barely veiled anger.  
  
"You are right. Claire, we have cast a charm onto Sirius, an Incognito charm. Outside of the staff-room nobody is supposed to recognise him. But you did. Why is that?"  
  
"I have no idea," she shrugged. "Maybe the charm was no good."  
  
Dumbledore coughed. "Thank you very much."  
  
She clasped a hand to her mouth. "I am sorry, Headmaster. What I tried to say was that maybe the charm does not work on … people like me."  
  
Sirius snorted. "Right. Since when makes nobility immune against charms?"  
  
"I. Am. Not. Nobility."  
  
The Headmaster shook his head and sighed. All the gilded portrait frames were filled with former headmasters, knights and ladies who listened anxiously.  
  
"I shall confer with Professor Flitwick on that problem and we shall find a solution, Sirius. Don't you worry."  
  
Black bowed his head.  
  
"But there is another problem that requires our consideration. Yours especially, my boy. Claire here needs a husband."  
  
Sirius rose a dark brow. "Does she? I thought a mere flick of her hand and …"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "Quit it, Sirius. I am not in the mood today to hear the two of you continuing your student bickering."  
  
Black crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.  
  
"Claire? Why don't you explain the situation to Sirius?"  
  
"To him?" She sounded incredulously, but lowered her voice when she noticed the stern expression on the Headmaster's face. "My parents died two years ago. They appointed my cousin Valerius as my guardian …" she exhaled carefully "… for certain reasons. My cousin keeps pressing prospective husbands at me. I can not dispose of the fortune I inherited until I am married."  
  
"And this is where you come in, Sirius."  
  
"I?"  
  
"He?"  
  
They both stared at Dumbledore in shock and refusal.  
  
"Claire, sit down, please." The old wizard petted Fawkes who had awoken with the sudden noise. "And you, Sirius, listen."  
  
"You know that there is no way Severus can take up his role as a spy now that Voldemort knows about his alliance with us. But we must not remain without any information about the Inner Circle. You also know how incredibly hard it is to get into that very circle. Only pure blood and the promise of fundamental financial support will gain admission. Claire offers to be our spy."  
  
Sirius opened his mouth but decided at Dumbledore's hard glance to remain silent.  
  
"She is a descendant of one of the oldest families in the country. And everybody knows about the Winterstorm money. The Death Eaters tried to recruit Valerius several times, but although he is genealogy incarnate, he would never donate the family fortune to Voldemort's cause. After all, Tom Riddle's blood is not exactly as pure as he expects his followers' to be. But if Claire had access to her heritage, the Death Eaters will kiss her feet. Therefore she has to marry."  
  
"I don't care about the money. I only want my freedom," Claire interfered softly without looking at Sirius. "My father's will decrees that I have to be married or Valerius will remain my guardian. If I can earn my freedom by being a spy, I'll do so."  
  
"And your price for helping us fight the Dark Lord is a husband?" Sirius stared at Claire furiously. "You must be kidding."  
  
Claire stood and glanced at him defiantly. "Forget it, Headmaster. I'll find another way to get access to the money and the Inner Circle. I don't need this … this big oaf to … "  
  
"Sit down, Claire," Dumbledore repeated. "Sirius …"  
  
Black rose a hand and gave her a scowl. "I suppose I should be flattered. But I am not. I am out of here, Headmaster."  
  
Dumbledore let him leave and slam the door without trying to hold him back.  
  
"My, he hasn't changed one bit," Claire stated as soon as she had calmed Fawkes, who hid his bald head under her arm cooing pitifully.  
  
"Still very handsome, isn't he?" Dumbledore watched her blush and settled back contentedly.  
  
"Still very … arrogant. And impolite. And downright mean."  
  
"He is not mean, Claire. He is angry, I grant you that. The last fourteen years have not been easy on him."  
  
"I know," she frowned. "They assumed he killed James and what was her name?"  
  
"Lilly."  
  
"Yes, Lilly Evans. I assume you consider him innocent. Otherwise you would not allow him to teach, would you?"  
  
"He is innocent. I am convinced of that, even if Sirius is not."  
  
Claire curled a strand of hair around her finger. She carried the guilt about Ygor's death every living minute and knew how it felt when everybody pronounced you innocent while you knew better.  
  
"He would not harm you, Claire."  
  
"Ha!"  
  
"What happened then was supposed to be a harmless prank. How was he to know … about you? We have not seen each other for a while, but since you came to me for help, I assume you trust my judgement."  
  
She sighed and looked very young all of a sudden. Then she gave in. "Talk to him."  
  
Dumbledore raised. "Give me an hour."  
  
"An hour?"  
  
"He is … stubborn."  
  
Claire stroked Fawkes few remaining feathers. "I'll wait."  
  
When the Headmaster had left, she gently rocked the phoenix and pressed a kiss onto his head. "Ah Fawkes," she whispered. "Why must it be him?"  
  
The phenix cooed but did not answer.  
  
  
  
On the foot of the winding stairs Dumbledore met Laurel, who had just finished teaching a class of first year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors and watched the students disperse in all directions.  
  
"Laurel," the Headmaster gazed around searchingly. "You haven't by any chance seen Sirius pass by?"  
  
"Pass by?" She snorted. "He looked as if he was about to strangle somebody."  
  
"I am afraid he is a little upset about a suggestion I made."  
  
"Is he?" Laurel's eyes twinkled. "I hope you did suggest he'd get his act together." Then her smile faded and she got serious. "No, I did not mean that. He is aching, Headmaster. He won't admit it, but something has to happen or he'll succumb to despair."  
  
"I know," Dumbledore sighed. "But if you ever thought Severus pigheaded, you haven't yet tried to talk reason into Mr. Black."  
  
"Good luck," said Laurel. "He was headed for the North tower. Lately he has taken to sit up there and brood."  
  
"Thank you, my dear. Talking about brooding - how is the Potions master doing?"  
  
She smiled again and the sheer warmth and love of that smile made Dumbledore forget his sorrow for a moment. "He took up teaching today and has already taken away 186 points from various houses. He is fine."  
  
"Lovely," the Headmaster smirked and crossed the Hall to the North tower, while Laurel went down to the dungeons to reassure that Professor Snape was indeed fine. If not, she make him.  
  
* * *  
  
"Sirius, listen to me."  
  
Dumbledore had to bow his head to get through the low door to the tower platform. "Claire really needs a husband."  
  
"Was there nobody else she could buy?" Black scowled. He leaned against the railing and stared at the Headmaster defiantly. He had needed fresh air, and the cool breeze had somewhat calmed him, but he was still nonplussed about the plan.  
  
"Nobody I'd trust with her safety."  
  
Sirius shrugged. "You heard her, Albus. She can do it alone."  
  
"She can not," said the old wizard softly. "She is a squib."  
  
The gazed at each other, Dumbledore sadly and Sirius thunderstruck.  
  
"A … squib?" he studdered.  
  
"That's why she could not find the way back to Hogwarts then. She could not light her wand."  
  
"But why did she ever get a letter?"  
  
"The Winterstorms pleaded with me until I gave in. They thought she'd grow into it if she got a proper education. After all she is very intelligent and there had never been a squib in the family. Merlin knows, the girl tried. She tried so hard it was painfully to watch. "  
  
"And Ygor?"  
  
"Claire's father insisted on his presence as her servant and her guard. After all nobody was to know that Claire was … handicapped. Sebastian Winterstorm donated a large sum of money, so the school board made an exception and let Ygor stay with Claire. Whenever magic was asked for, Ygor would provide it."  
  
Sirius rubbed his eyes. "I can't believe it. Didn't anybody notice?"  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"No. I just thought she was spoilt and …"  
  
"And made fun of her."  
  
Black nodded slowly. "There was this little girl, so small she looked even younger than she was. And she kept her head so high she still seemed to look down at us."  
  
"At the end of her second year in Hogwarts it became obvious that her … condition would not improve. You graduated that year, so you do not know that her parents decided not to let her come back the next fall. Her classmates were told that Claire had transferred to Beauxbatons. While actually …"  
  
He shivered slightly in the fresh breeze. "The Winterstorms were so ashamed, they locked her away."  
  
"Locked her … away?" Black repeated incredulously.  
  
"They would not allow her to leave the house. They owned that great manor in Hogwarts, and as far as I know Claire did not set a foot outside the gates for the next twenty years. I owled her reading lists and books. Minerva visited her once in a while, but otherwise she did not meet too many people."  
  
Sirius starred into the distance at something only he could see.  
  
"What happened when the Winterstorms died? She is ... what, five years younger than I? Why is this cousin her guardian?"  
  
"As you know, squibs are not seen fit by our laws to live alone. They are either wards of their next relative or wards of the Ministry. Which is now, with half the Ministry on Voldemort's side, a certain death sentence. You remember what the Death Eaters did to those squibs in Cornwall?"  
  
"They burned them alive." Sirius swallowed hard.  
  
"It is not just about the money and her freedom. Claire wants Voldemort's defeat as ardently as we do. That's why she needs more than just a husband in name, Sirius. She needs a bodyguard. She may appear fragile but that deceives. She'd venture into the Inner Circle alone, and if they ever found out what she is, she'd have no means to defend herself."  
  
Sirius clenched his fists and turned away from the Headmaster.  
  
"I can't, Albus," he muttered. "How can you trust me with her life, knowing I … I failed the last time."  
  
"Dear boy," Dumbledore reached out for him, but let his hand drop when Sirius jerked back. He gave the young wizard a minute to regain his composure.  
  
"Considering the past events I can't ask Severus …"  
  
Sirius snorted. "Yeah right. As if Laurel would let him marry another woman, even if it was in name only!"  
  
"I could ask Remus though."  
  
Silence followed his words. Black stood by the wall and pressed his forehead against the cool stones. Remus, who was so in love with that crazy redhaired witch … Who had never loved anybody until now … Remus would answer Dumbledore's call without a question, even if it meant that he lost Serene.  
  
"Keep Remus out of it, Albus. Have some mercy."  
  
"Ah Sirius, do you really think I am asking this to spite you? Or to hurt you?" The Headmaster's eyes clouded with sadness.  
  
Black groaned. "No, of course not."  
  
"I would not ask this from you without some compensation on your part."  
  
"Compensation!" Sirius scowled. "Is the Princess going to pay me for posing as her husband?"  
  
"You'd better stop calling her that. I got the notion she does not like it very much."  
  
"Does she? Well, tell me, what is she offering?"  
  
"Claire does not offer you anything. But I do."  
  
The Headmaster stroked his beard and pointed to the Quidditch pitch where the Gryffindor team practised dives.  
  
"You know that I placed Harry in the care of his next of kin when he was but a baby."  
  
"Right." Sirius waited for what was about to come.  
  
"But considering that you are his godfather …"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"And considering that you are going to be a married man, living in a mansion big enough for a family … I could be convinced to let Harry live with you. And your lovely wife of course."  
  
Sirius stepped towards the railing and took a deep breath.  
  
"This is blackmail."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Dumbledore winced when Sirius hit the wall with his bare fists. So much anger. So much pain. Sometimes he thanked the fates that his youth was long behind him. "Lately I have to resort to extortion more often than I like. First Severus and now you ...," he muttered under his breath.  
  
Black exhaled and gave him a look of unveiled contempt.  
  
"Tell her I'll marry her."  
  
"Very well." Dumbledore smiled kindly. "I'll tell her. We should do it as soon as possible. Tomorrow at the registry office in Hogsmeade?"  
  
Sirius shrugged, his face empty.  
  
"Whenever."  
  
* * * 


	2. The Pact

2. THE PACT  
  
„What are we doing here?" wailed Serene when Laurel dragged her down the main street of Hogsmeade.  
  
"Ah Serene, stop behaving like a child!" Laurel looked at the slip of paper in her hand. "Winterstorm House", she muttered. "No street name."  
  
"If you'd tell me what we are looking for, I might help. I might even stop wailing."  
  
"We'll visit Sirius' fiancée." Laurel frowned and gaped through the hawthorn hedges along the street.  
  
"His WHAT?" Serene's mouth fell open. She grabbed Laurel's sleeve and jerked her back. "His fiancée? This is a sick joke, isn't it?"  
  
"No, he is getting married. Tomorrow, to be precise. Minerva asked me to visit Claire and see if I can help her with the preparations for the wedding. You know, the feast, the dress …"  
  
Serene laughed out loud despite her shock at the announcement. "With her dress? You? No offence, Laurel, but …"  
  
"That's where you come in," replied Laurel with a smug smile.  
  
"So this is really true?"  
  
"Obviously, since Minerva is going to be one of the witnesses."  
  
"But who would marry Black of all wizards?"  
  
Laurel shrugged. "Claire Winterstorm, I guess." She pointed at a beautifully crafted cast iron door. "And this is where she lives."  
  
The door opened and admitted them to a garden full of flowering bushes. No gardener's hand seemed to have touched the roses and the trees for years. They bloomed in abundance and had taken over the grounds in a rage of colour and scent.  
  
"Wow. She may be mad, but she is a rich mad-woman. Very rich. Just look at the house!" gasped Serene.  
  
Winterstorm Manor was a lovely rambling old building with many chimneys and additions to the various wings of the house. A porch with white lattice work surrounded the first floor. French windows gave the house a friendly face and let in the warm breeze.  
  
"What makes you think she is mad?" Laurel shook her head disapprovingly, silently scolding herself because she had asked Severus the very same question an hour ago.  
  
"Did I say mad? Sorry, I meant suicidal." Serene shook her glorious mane back and rolled her eyes. "Sirius Black is tactless, mean and so full of it I want to kick him every time I see him."  
  
"Come on, Serene. He is not the most pleasant wizard around, but …"  
  
"But?"  
  
Laurel scratched her head in despair to think up anything good. „Remus loves him like a brother. He is his best friend."  
  
"Remus?" The red-haired witch rose both hands impatiently. "You know Remus. He is always so kind, so ready to forgive. Remus likes everybody. Even …" Her voice cracked suddenly.  
  
"Even you, "Laurel finished the sentence for her. "Although you do your very best to make him stop liking you. Loving you."  
  
Serene narrowed her eyes defiantly. "This is not going to be another counselling session, Laurel, is it? What is between me and Remus is nobody's business but ours."  
  
"Fine." Laurel shrugged and started walking up to the mansion. "But keep your opinion about Sirius to yourself. Maybe this woman sees something in him we just can't."  
  
"Yeah, sure." Serene knocked at the door. „Let me tell you something." She looked at Laurel and her eyes turned dark green with sincerity. "The Dementors got to him in Azkaban. They got him and ate him up or whatever it is they do. He is all empty, and what Remus loves is nothing but a memory, the empty shell of the man Black may have been long ago."  
  
Laurel sighed. But before she could answer, the door opened and a house-elf beamed up at them.  
  
"We'd like to see Miss Winterstorm," said Laurel and nudged Serene to stop gaping at the grand hall with its ancient tapestries and antique furniture.  
  
"Visitors! You is visitors! Yes? Peagreen can tell." The elf's voice almost toppled over. He wore a lovely blue striped tea towel. Taking in the blue ribbon in the little creature's soft green hair, Laurel concluded that Peagreen actually was a 'she'.  
  
The elf nodded eagerly. "Miss Claire are working in the salon. Peagreen will announce the lady-witches." She took their coats and hurried away, ears flapping excitedly. The Winterstorm household obviously did not see too many visitors.  
  
Claire kept her hands behind her back when the two witches entered the salon, so they would not notice how she dug her nails into the palm of her hand. She tried to appear calm. Her mother had always told her that calmness was a virtue in a woman.  
  
One of the witches was beautiful. Claire felt a stab of envy when she took in the sweep of copper curls, the large green eyes, the lovely dress. Her companion was rather plain, with brown hair and brown eyes. But then her smile was so warm, it gave her a beauty of her own right.  
  
"I am Laurel Hunter," said the smiling witch. "This is Serene Kennedy. We both teach at Hogwarts. I … we," she rose her hands apologising, "I really don't know how to put it. But Minerva said you might need some help. With the wedding and all."  
  
"The wedding." Claire blushed. Of course Minerva McGonagall had not kept silent. But how much had she told them about the … arrangement? "Of course. How very nice of you to visit."  
  
She beckoned Kikki to her side, bowed down and whispered in his ear. The elf nodded and skipped out of the room.  
  
"You must be exhausted." Claire did her best to play the hostess. She had read about this of course, and she had watched her mother a few times from the top of the stairs when Phyllis Winterstorm entertained guests. "Why don't you have a glass of iced tea or cold butterbeer or whatever. We can sit on the porch, it is lovely out there right now."  
  
They followed her to the porch where the elves had set a table with all kinds of refreshments. Claire heard the red-haired witch mutter: "Exhausted? Does she think we walked all the way from Hogwarts?"  
  
Claire winced silently and offered them drinks. Of course they had taken a broom - or had even Apparated ... Of course she was the only person who had no other means of transportation than her legs.  
  
"So," Serene smiled at her as Claire sat down cautiously, "How did you meet dear Sirius?"  
  
Laurel nudged her rather hard and made her shut up. "I am sorry. I had no time yet to inform Serene about ... the plan."  
  
"I am not sure how much Headmaster Dumbledore has told you, " Claire made no more effort to hide her embarrassment.  
  
"You marry Sirius and by that arrangement you can spy out the Inner Circle."  
  
Serene's mouth fell open. She looked at the small witch and shook her head. "You are going to be Snape's replacement? You must be nuts."  
  
"Serene!" hissed Laurel.  
  
Claire avoided Laurel's eyes and filled up her glass with iced tea. Her hands shook slightly but she kept her back straight.  
  
A flock of owls suddenly appeared and encircled the house, soaring in risky manoeuvres through the porch.  
  
"Business owls," explained Claire and shooed the cooing birds to the owlery. "It must be three o'clock."  
  
"You keep business owls?" Laurel took a sip of tea and looked at Claire quizzically. "That must be ... about a hundred?"  
  
The young woman straightened her napkin. "My father started a successful chain of bookstores. Wizard stuff, but also," she smiled shyly, "books about magic for Muggles. Carefully toned down, of course," she added. "My father felt it would make it easier for them to accept our existence one day."  
  
Laurel nodded. So Claire Winterstorm was a business-woman. How interesting.  
  
Claire tried desperately to think of something to make conversation about. She felt black panic creep from her throat to her heart. How could she have been so idiotic to believe she would be able to fool Voldemort's Death Eaters if she couldn't even talk to two harmless witches for more than two minutes?  
  
Eventually Laurel threw up both hands in defeat and admitted: "I really find it hard to talk to people I don't know." She laughed, and Claire felt dizzy with relief.  
  
"I … my conversational skills are a bit rusty," she said. Or non-existent, she added silently. "And there is so much on my mind right now, with the wedding and all."  
  
"The wedding. Right." Serene jumped up, quite relived that they had found a common interest after all. "The dress. We are supposed to help you with the dress. Or rather, I am." She smirked at Claire. "Laurel can tell you everything you never wanted to know about the Goblin Revolution of 1546. But she is a fashion disaster."  
  
If Serene had marvelled at the Hall, she was awe-struck by Claire's dressing room. Or rather, as Claire tried to explain shyly, her late mother's dressing room.  
  
"I don't own that many dresses. And none of them is good enough for … a special occasion. Of course I …," she smiled at Serene who had already begun to pick out robes, "we … could go to see what they have at Gladrags." As if she'd ever been there ... It was really exhausting to keep up the appearance of being normal. But she had to practise anyway. A mistake in the presence of a dozen Death Eaters would surely kill her. A mistake with the two young teachers from Hogwarts would at the worst embarrass her. And if she was good anything, it was being embarrassed.  
  
"Gladrags!" Serene rolled her eyes. "The stuff you got here is so much better! This is vintage, very fashionable right now."  
  
Laurel sat at the bed and obviously had a great time watching.  
  
"This is just perfect!" Serene beamed at Claire and held up a robe in light green silk. "Laurel, concentrate! It will bring out her eyes and go wonderfully with her hair, if she does something to keep it out of her face." She frowned. "But the sleeves are too long."  
  
"I can fix that," said Claire intimidated by her determination.  
  
Serene put the robe carefully on a chair. "I go and get my wand from my coat. We only need to shorten them an inch or two."  
  
She ran out of the room, and Claire sighed.  
  
"She can be really scary, can't she?" Laurel smiled sympathetically.  
  
Claire rubbed her aching temples. "It is only that she is so beautiful. I wish I had her height and her self-assurance."  
  
"And I sometimes wish I had her hair. It looks amazing, doesn't it?"  
  
Both women looked at each other and smiled sheepishly.  
  
Laurel shrugged. "Have you got a needle-cushion? You know, one of these Muggle devices for sewing?"  
  
Claire took a deep breath. Minerva must have told Laurel about her inability to do any magic. A heavy weight lifted from her heart. For so many years her parents had drilled her to never ever let anybody know she was a squib - not that she'd had any opportunities to blow her cover, since no strangers were admitted to Winterstorm Manor, ever. Nobody knew how she longed to tell the truth to somebody, to have one friend she could be honest with. But as she opened her mouth to confess, Laurel shattered all hopes.  
  
"Of course you'll want to do it magically. But let me sew a few stitches, just to infuriate Serene."  
  
Claire's bottom lip trembled but she dug her fingernails into her palm again - being with people definitely was painful - and stood up. "Of course I could do it magically. I'll get the needle case."  
  
When Serene returned with her wand, Claire and Laurel sat on the floor and stitched away on the sleeves.  
  
"Laurel! What are you doing?"  
  
Laurel smiled. "We are sewing. You decreed the sleeves too short, and here we are, two busy seamstresses, following your advice."  
  
"But …. you are … with a needle?" Serene shook her head unbelievingly. "Laurel, you must come to terms with the magical world! How can you live here and just pretend half of the time you don't need any magic?"  
  
"For heaven's sake!" Laurel stuck the needle into the thin fabric and promptly pricked her finger. Wincing she put it into her mouth. "I can get by absolutely magicless most of the time." She turned to Claire who was watching them in awe. "I grew up a Muggle. Often magic seems to be more effort than doing things the way I am used to."  
  
"I understand." Claire reached for her hand. "Let me see that."  
  
She took Laurel's hand in hers and held it for a moment. Then she blushed and let go of it, avoiding Laurel's speculative look. She held up the silk garment to Serene.  
  
"I am sorry we started without you."  
  
Serene kneeled next to her and studied the perfectly stitched seam. "No, this is very good. Couldn't do it any better with the wand."  
  
Laurel smirked. "Take that literally, Claire. Our Serene is not any better than I am, Muggle born and bred. We both got admitted to Hogwarts only three years ago. Although I must admit that Serene takes the whole magic thing much more seriously than I do."  
  
Claire gazed at her and then at Serene. "But you are … you are witches."  
  
"But we never got the letter," Serene explained with barely suppressed outrage in her voice. "Somebody screwed up big time."  
  
"You must have been very happy when they found out."  
  
"Oh, I was ecstatic. But I remember Laurel whining and hating it."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Laurel gave her a sheepish smile. "I … came to love it. It just took some time." She cleared her throat. "Of course you are a witch and had a proper education, so you can't know how it feels to be suddenly exposed to all the magic. I really thought I'd never come to grips with all the spells and charms and whatnots. And I am still proud every time I succeed in conjuring a tea tray that doesn't come up as a guinea pig or a toboggan."  
  
"But you like it well enough to stay in Hogwarts?" Claire wondered. "You even teach."  
  
"Let's say, while Serene is where she always wanted to be, I am where somebody is I want to be with." She started to pick up the robes Serene had declared unfit for Claire's fair complexion.  
  
"Maybe we should fashion something for you as well, Laurel," said Serene and looked disapprovingly at the plain robe Laurel wore.  
  
The brown-haired witch smiled, and Claire noticed a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Slowly she got the rhythm of their good-natured skirmish. They seemed to be friends and gain a lot of fun from these verbal fights.  
  
"What is wrong with the dress I am wearing?"  
  
"You got lovely eyes and a warm colour would accentuate that."  
  
"Severus wouldn't notice the difference," Laurel chuckled. "He'd only notice if I wore nothing at all."  
  
"Ah Laurel, you are hopeless. You two really deserve each other."  
  
Laurel's eyes lit up and Claire could almost feel warmth radiate from her. "That's what I always say."  
  
Serene cleared her throat and shrugged, apologising to Claire. "She is madly in love. She can't think clearly."  
  
Claire smiled shyly. "But being in love is something very precious, isn't it?"  
  
"It is." Laurel nodded. She carefully folded the silk robe and put it on the bed. "I hope you and Sirius will be as happy as Severus and I."  
  
"Snape? Severus Snape?" Claire frowned. "There was a Severus Snape in Slytherin when I went to school. Very nasty."  
  
"That's probably the same wizard. He is teaching Potions now."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"He wasn't exactly what you'd call a nice guy then. I am aware of that," Laurel said gently when she saw the other woman's embarrassment.  
  
"He never did me any harm." At least that was true, Claire thought. Snape had not even noticed her and Merlin, had she been glad about it! Even as a seventh year he had scared her. She had been sure he'd look through her disguise at once. Ygor had always tried to assure her that nobody knew but the Professors. But Claire had spent every day in fear. The Death Eaters had started to attack and kill Squibs as well as Mudbloods when she started her second year in Hogwarts.  
  
"Is there anybody else in the staff, you remember from your schooldays?" Serene's question let her snap out of her memories.  
  
"I don't think so," she said carefully. "Nobody but Snape. And of course Sirius."  
  
  
  
Professor Flitwick conjured another pillow for his chair and finally settled comfortably next to Dumbledore. The fire in the staff-room burned bright to keep away the chill of a late may evening.  
  
"Albus, do you really think it is a good idea to put Sirius under that kind of stress?"  
  
The Headmaster sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I keep asking myself the very same question. But honestly, I do not have a choice. There is nobody but Claire."  
  
"But she is a squib. If the Death Eaters find out, she is dead." The tiny wizard shuddered. "If she is lucky."  
  
"Sirius will make sure she gets through this adventure unharmed. You know him. And he desperately needs a purpose, something besides Harry. After all the boy is almost sixteen. In the near future he will start his own family."  
  
"Well, time will tell," Flitwick took a piece of pumpkin pie. "What is it about the charm that worries you so?"  
  
"Wasn't it to disguise Black's face to anybody outside the staff-room?" Dumbledore raised a white eyebrow and fixed the charms Professor who squirmed in his seat. "How come it shows no effect with a mere squib?"  
  
"Is that what you were suspecting? That being a squib made the girl unsusceptible to the Incognito-charm?" Flitwick beamed. "Interesting idea, but no. After all, Mr Filch is a squib as well and has not recognised Black so far."  
  
"Well, what is it then?" Dumbledore frowned. He narrowed his eyes. "Theodore! You built in a trapdoor!"  
  
The tiny wizard nodded slowly. "I like to see it as a window, not a trapdoor. Sirius Black has a large family, hasn't he?"  
  
The Headmaster shook his head. "Two of his brothers died in the war, only weeks before the Potters were killed. But the youngest, Castor, is still alive."  
  
"Ah, I remember Castor," said Flitwick. "A gifted musician."  
  
"Their mother was devastated when Sirius was sent to Azkaban. She died a few years later. So his family is not so large after all. Really it is only Harry right now."  
  
"That's why I built the window into the charm," sighed the Professor. "I did not know they were all dead. I thought they should recognise him when they met by chance."  
  
"You have a heart that is certainly bigger than your body, Theodore," smiled Dumbledore. "But that still does not answer the question. Claire is not Black's sister. If they were related, this crazy cousin of hers, Valerius, would have found out by now."  
  
Flitwick stared at him intently. "When I built the charm, I did not specify 'family'. Not family by blood."  
  
They remained silent for a moment, each pondering his own thoughts.  
  
"So Lupin probably sees his true face as well," concluded Dumbledore and gave the Professor a cheerful smile.  
  
Flitwick nodded and made the flames in the fireplace burn brighter with a flick of his wrist. "Each of us got two families. The one we were born into. And the one we choose."  
  
* * *  
  
The Registry Office was located in a whitewashed house next to the Three Broomsticks - a practical and gainful solution for both establishments. Most wedding parties celebrated in the pub after the ceremony. And more than once a couple had, after a merry night at the Hogsmeade pub, decided to tie the knot right then. Rosmerta had been witness to more marriages than she cared to remember.  
  
Right now she watched with barely veiled interest the small group of Hogwarts Professors that had Apparated in front of the small office. "And there I was, thinking they were all sworn to celibacy," she muttered when she went inside to set the table.  
  
Isidor Gumble, the mayor of Hogsmeade, shook Dumbledore's hand and seemed determined to not let go again. "Great honour, " he repeated and beamed at the famous wizard, "great honour, Sir!"  
  
Dumbledore freed his hand gently. "Of course you know Miss Winterstorm, don't you?"  
  
The mayor bowed and kissed Claire's hand. "To be honest, I never had the pleasure. Your parents were great patrons of the local library though."  
  
Claire blushed and smiled. Her parents hadn't even been aware that such a thing as a public library existed in Hogsmeade. The Winterstorms owned a chain of bookstores amongst other businesses, and for them books were to be sold, not lent. So the only patron in the family had been Claire, but she was not going to tell this red-faced man who was to marry her to Sirius.  
  
"And where is the lucky guy?"  
  
She blinked.  
  
"The groom."  
  
Dumbledore came to her help. „Professor White will be here any minute."  
  
"I remember her. Wasn't she the girl who had this huge ugly troll as a servant?" Snape asked Professor McGonagall.  
  
"Severus!" Laurel tugged at his sleeve to make him keep his voice down. Instinctively he drew her close to him. His shoulder still hurt from the injury he had suffered two weeks ago. But it didn't matter. To fall asleep next to her and to know he'd wake up next to her …  
  
"But he was remarkably ugly," he whispered into her ear and smiled when she pretended to kick his shin.  
  
McGonagall rose an eyebrow. Who would have thought that Severus Snape, the loner, the misantropist, could ever form such a close relationship with a woman? Well, of course, she, Minerva, had seen it from the beginning, she congratulated herself with a smug smile.  
  
"Claire is taking a great risk by taking up your role as a spy, Severus," she reminded the Potions master. "She'll need your help and all the information she can get."  
  
He bowed his head. "I'll do my best. But let me deposit once more, that I think this plan is utter nonsense. Just look at her. If the Death Eaters don't tear her apart, Black will."  
  
Minerva's mouth twitched in sudden sorrow. "It is not that we have much of a choice, do we? There is no way we can allow you to ever answer a summons again."  
  
"But why Black? She seems to be a nice girl. There is no way she can stand up against Sirius. You know his mood swings."  
  
"Severus, one could almost think you were worried about Claire." Remus Lupin and Serene had entered the office. The DADA teacher smiled at Snape's obvious gall and raised both hands in defence. "But we all know you aren't."  
  
"I worry only about what is going to happen when Voldemort get hold of her and squeezes her brain for information."  
  
"But he was right," said Serene. "Remus, even you as Black's friend must admit that something is wrong with him. He is ... empty."  
  
Laurel felt Snape tighten. Her hand slipped into his.  
  
"No, you are not, Severus," she murmured so softly nobody but him could hear it.  
  
Lupin frowned defiantly. "Sirius spent almost twelve years in Azkaban, and he has been on the run since he escaped. Most wizards don't even survive a month in that abominable place. Of course he is … hurt. Cut him some slack, by Gryffindor."  
  
"And Claire may look fragile, but she seems to be stronger than she appears. After all she lives all alone in that big house, and she told me she manages all the businesses of the Winterstorm family." Laurel watched Claire, who stood next to Dumbledore and the mayor, her hands folded, a picture of calmness. Only her eyes that wandered to the door every now and then betrayed her inner turmoil.  
  
"She got quite a stubborn streak."  
  
"Great," Remus sighed. "Just great. They'll kill each other."  
  
Sirius entered the registry office and stood in the door without being noticed by anybody but Claire. The walls of the small offices seemed to approach, close around him. He was trapped. He heard a faint voice, a pleading, crying. Coldness seeped through his body to the very core of him. A sudden bout of panic threatened to suffocate him.  
  
The woman he was to marry in a few minutes looked at him with an unreadable expression. There was nothing to hold on to but Claire Winterstorm's cool grey eyes. Slowly his breath slowed down to normal.  
  
Then the mayor noticed the tall wizard in the door. "Ah Professor White, I assume!"  
  
Sirius gritted his teeth and shook hands, while avoiding to look at the warrant with his face that graced the pinboard behind the mayor's desk.  
  
"Well, I assume we are all set and ready to start," beamed Mr Gumble.  
  
"No," said Sirius.  
  
Eventually he had everybody's attention.  
  
"I need to have a word with … my fiancée." The word seemed to burn his tongue.  
  
Claire paled.  
  
Sirius opened the door. "Everybody out."  
  
Remus cleared his throat and slightly shook his head. "Where is Harry?"  
  
"He won't come."  
  
Their eyes met and Remus winced when he saw the pain.  
  
"Please. Give us a moment."  
  
The wizards and Professors jostled out of the office and gathered in front of the building. Black shut the door behind them.  
  
"We need to talk." His voice was rough.  
  
Claire clenched her fists to keep herself from pulling a strand of her hair out of the complicated braid Coco had created hours ago. She was nervous enough among so many strangers without Black looking at her as if he was about to kill her any minute. Taking a deep breath she tried to overcome her shyness.  
  
"What do you want to talk about?"  
  
"This … marriage." His hand raked through the dark hair.  
  
"You want to call it off." Her heart sank. There went her last chance to win her freedom. Her last chance to put an end to Valerius' never-ending sermons about pure bloodlines and noble heritage.  
  
"No."  
  
Her head jerked up.  
  
Again Black noticed the clarity and calmness of her gaze. Oh, she obviously was afraid of him, but she kept an inner poise that seemed to shield her. Just by looking at her, some of his anger evaporated.  
  
"Mayor Gumble will have us swear we shall love, honour and obey each other. But we both know that this marriage is nothing but a farce. Still it is in our mutual interest to stay married, at least for a while." He sighed. Lately he seemed to have trouble talking, somehow the words evaded him when he really needed them. They surely had when he tried to explain the situation to Harry an hour ago.  
  
"I offer you a pact."  
  
Claire's knees buckled and she swayed for a moment. Holding on to the mayor's desk, she nodded slowly. She understood pacts. Conditions, sanctions, dates - that she could deal with.  
  
"A pact. That's fine with me."  
  
"I got conditions, and I am sure you got some as well. If we can agree upon them, this will be a successful … arrangement."  
  
"You will not interfere with my plan to get access to Voldemort's inner circle," Claire said quickly. She blushed but stood her ground. Luckily a strand had escaped the braided crown and had wrapped around her finger.  
  
"This is your condition."  
  
"Yes."  
  
He shrugged. „As long as you don't endanger your life. Or mine."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"Dumbledore appointed me not only your husband but your bodyguard. You won't go there alone."  
  
Claire exhaled slowly. She would have to change her plan but she was sure she'd be able to adapt it.  
  
"Agreed."  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
She felt her own heart beat as if somebody was beating a drum in her head.  
  
„The Headmaster told you about ... what I am .."  
  
"A squib. Yes, he did."  
  
"You will never punish me for being what I am."  
  
Silence fell like a heavy blanket. Black stared at her. His dark blue eyes bore into hers and she noticed worriedly how his mouth paled.  
  
"You really think I would … punish you for that?" His voice was that of a stranger.  
  
"I shall not be locked up ever again."  
  
The hair strand had wrapped around her fingers so tightly the fingertips turned blue.  
  
Black took a step towards Claire and saw in shock how she recoiled. Carefully he reached out and unwrapped the strand. "No crime," he said softly. "No punishment."  
  
He had big hands, marvelled Claire. Beautiful hands, made to repair things, to build, to form. Her own hand almost vanished in his.  
  
"Your conditions," she croaked.  
  
"I have a godson, Harry. He is in Gryffindor."  
  
She nodded. Harry Potter, the hero of all elves.  
  
"I want him to be welcome to your house if he ever decides he wants to live with me."  
  
"It will be your house as well when we are married."  
  
He scowled at her. "No, it won't. Your house. And there is not much danger of Harry showing up anyway. He told me so in no uncertain terms."  
  
Claire looked up at him, and saw something in his eyes that she knew only to well. Utter loneliness.  
  
"I had two demands," she said softly. "Harry will be welcome at Winterstorm Manor. You may have another one."  
  
"Don't worry. I have another one."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"This will not be a marriage only in name."  
  
There was a soft growl in his voice, just enough to send a shiver down her skin. She clenched her fists. She would not be intimidated by him. She owed him nothing.  
  
"What do you mean … not only in name?"  
  
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her, his face void of any emotion.  
  
"If I marry you, we'll share a bed."  
  
"Share a bed!"  
  
"Have sex. Sleep with each other. Fuck. Whatever you want to call it." He shrugged. "I lost almost half of my life to Azkaban. I can agree upon a marriage without love. But not without sex."  
  
"No."  
  
Claire turned and faced the pinboard behind the mayor's desk.  
  
"Then there will be no wedding."  
  
The tension was almost palpable and when Black touched her shoulder, Claire jumped. She made a small sound that sounded almost like a sob.  
  
"I can't. I simply can't just sleep with you. I don't even know you."  
  
He laughed but there was no humour in the sound. "But you can marry me without knowing me?"  
  
Her eyes filled with unwanted tears and she blinked them away. "Would you force me to ...?"  
  
"I may be a suspected murderer but I don't force women." Sirius' face went blank and he stared at the warrant behind her.  
  
"Then we shall never share a bed."  
  
"Only when you come out of free will."  
  
"As I said, we'll never share a bed then."  
  
"So you accept my condition?"  
  
"If you accept my clause?"  
  
He offered her his hand and after a moment of reconsideration she laid her hand into his palm.  
  
"I really think you should let these poor people come back in," she suggested. "They'll be afraid you strangled me in the meantime."  
  
Black snorted. "Great to be surrounded by trusting friends on your wedding- day, isn't it?"  
  
* * * 


	3. The Plan

3. THE PLAN  
  
  
  
Sirius sat at breakfast and looked over the table at his … wife. Claire. The Hufflepuff Princess. Dumbledore's newest spy. They were married for three days now and he still had problems to thinks of her as his wife. But she was, by decree of the mayor and her next of kin.  
  
Valerius Winterstorm, a scrawny old wizard with a neck like a vulture, had dismissed Sirius' reputation as a mass-murderer with an impatient snort, as soon as Dumbledore had assured him that no Muggle had diluted the Blacks' bloodline in the last five generations.  
  
"Riddle is a bastard, damn Mudblood he is," he muttered and wrote Sirius' name into the family tree on a huge roll of parchment.  
  
The goblin from Gringott's had not even looked at him, so eager had he been to have Claire's signature under the papers he had brought. "Very honoured to deal with you, Mrs White," the clerk bowed his way out of Claire's salon. "Your instinct where money is concerned is almost that of a goblin's." - a praise that brought tears of suppressed laughter into Claire's eyes - and relieved Sirius somewhat. After all he had never seen his … wife laugh until then.  
  
Now she looked up from the pile of letters and papers she kept beside her plate.  
  
"What?"  
  
He shrugged. „How are you going to spend your day?"  
  
"I'll go through the books, answer some letters. Same as every day, really."  
  
Sirius picked up the 'Daily Prophet' and congratulated himself not to see his own face stare at him off the front-page as it had so often two years ago. They had picked the worst picture then of course. Sometimes even he had been scared when he saw it scowl off a news-stand he passed as a black dog.  
  
"By the way, we got an invitation, by Lucius Malfoy."  
  
He put the paper down. "Malfoy?"  
  
"He suggest to get to know each other before he introduces us to his … master." Claire took a sip of tea. "I accepted on our part."  
  
"You what?"  
  
"I accepted. This is why we married, isn't it? To gain admission to the Inner Circle. And Malfoy is one of them."  
  
"You could have asked me at least." Sirius frowned. His blue eyes darkened until they matched his hair.  
  
"But why?" She stared at him defiantly.  
  
He was lost for words. "It involves both of us. I need to know."  
  
"It is my plan. We agreed you'd go with it."  
  
"As long as it is not stupid and dangerous."  
  
"If you are afraid, I'll go alone!"  
  
"No, you won't."  
  
"Just watch me!"  
  
She pushed back her chair and ran from the room.  
  
Sirius gritted his teeth and threw the 'Daily Prophet' where it belonged - into the waste basket. He gave her ten minutes to calm down - ten minutes he needed dearly to calm down himself. Then he went up the stairs, only to find an elf with bulging eyes standing guard in front of Claire's door. The little creature's ears hung down in distress but her fists were clenched, and even though Sirius could have smashed her with one hit of his fist, the elf looked as if she was determined to stand her ground.  
  
"Get out of my way, little one," he growled.  
  
"No," squeaked the elf, her voice higher than ever. "Miss Claire's Sirius, you is not to yell at the Miss! You is to be her husband, to be nice."  
  
Sirius winced inwardly. They had given him that ridiculous name when Claire had introduced him to her household after the wedding. And they had sickeningly romantic ideas about married live.  
  
„Open the damned door, Claire." He kept his voice down, just loud enough to let her know that he would enter her bedroom if she didn't come out immediately.  
  
The elf jibed: "You does not yell at Miss Claire!"  
  
Sirius grabbed her at the neck of the towel-dress and lifted her up to sit her down a few steps away from the door, but the elf kept kicking his shin and wriggling like a rabbit, and when the door flew open, he still had the wailing creature in his hand.  
  
Claire stared at him, saw the broad shoulders, the tall frame, the anger in his eyes and felt her face pale. Sirius set the elf down and looked at his hands as if he had never noticed how big they were.  
  
Claire hunched down to stroke the elf's head. "Are you Ok, Lilly?"  
  
"I is kicking him! I is kicking him!" Lilly jumped with excitement."  
  
Sirius promptly rubbed his shin which made the elf beam with pride.  
  
"Thank you, Lilly," Claire said. "Leave us alone now. He is not angry anymore." Looking up at Sirius who towered over her, she swallowed doubtfully.  
  
"Don't run out on me ever again, Claire." Sirius' voice was low and threatening. "I don't like the idea of being the accused without the chance to defend myself or explain. And don't ever lock your door on me." Only then he noticed that there was no lock under the doorknob. There was no lock under his doorknob either. In the whole manor no door would ever be locked again.  
  
„I didn't run out on you! You have no idea how it is to be alone all the time," Claire spit. "To have nobody to talk to but parents who treat you like a child, and elves who treat you like ... well, like elves treat everybody. No, I have no idea how to discuss something. I never had to!"  
  
Sirius leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"Whether you believe it or not, I know how it is to have nobody to talk to."  
  
Claire suppressed a sob. Azkaban. He had spent twelve years in a cell in a fortress in the North Sea, while she had pitied herself in her cosy bedroom. Embarrassed about the accusations she had hurled at him, she sought the right words and found nothing but:  
  
"Sorry."  
  
He bowed his head. "So am I."  
  
She cleared her throat. "I just never had to answer anybody. My parents of course, but they were old, and content as long as I didn't leave the house."  
  
"Claire, we have to find a way to go through this together," he sighed. "And I haven't been a team-player lately myself. But please, don't accept invitations without asking me, OK?"  
  
"But it is my plan!"  
  
She had to say it. It sounded stupid and childish but she just had to say it.  
  
Sirius stared at her. So small and fragile, and yet so stubborn. Just why did nobody listen to his reasonable arguments anymore? She even stuck her chin out just like Harry had done ... He suddenly noticed that she wore nothing but a towel. Her hair dripped, still wet from the shower. His throat got dry. He'd go into his bedroom, open all the windows and damn the day when he agreed to marry Claire Winterstorm.  
  
"It is your plan." His voice was low and almost a caress. "But I'd like very much to be still alive when we are through with it."  
  
* * *  
  
„Mr Potter, a word please."  
  
Professor Lupin dismissed the class and looked at Harry expectantly.  
  
"Got yourself in trouble again, Potter?" Draco Malfoy grinned at him before his ran out.  
  
Hermione and Ron hovered at the door, uncertain if they should wait and what Harry had done this time.  
  
"What's wrong lately?" Hermione asked softly. She had spent too much time with her essay on a problem in Arithmancy to pay too much attention to Harry's strange behaviour. But even she had noticed how Harry had not said a word through Professor White's class. Usually he looked forward to Transfiguration for Animagi all week. But this time he had avoided White's gaze, and had not even answered direct questions.  
  
"He is not in trouble," smiled Lupin. "But I need to talk to him nonetheless."  
  
The Gryffindors left, not without a last gaze at Harry, who gave them a noncommittal shrug.  
  
Remus looked at the boy, who stood by his desk, his hand clamped around his book-bag.  
  
"Why don't you sit down, Harry, while we talk?"  
  
"I'd rather stand. Quidditch training starts in five minutes and I don't want to be late."  
  
Remus sighed. "Listen, Harry, I can see that you're angry about Sirius. But I really don't understand why."  
  
"I am not angry. He is a grown up and he does not need to ask me for permission."  
  
"But he asked you."  
  
"No, he did not. He just told me he was going to marry … this woman."  
  
The DADA teacher carefully shut the jar with wood-fairies he had brought into class and made a mental note to set them free tonight. They suffered in captivity and he had only needed them to illustrate his lecture.  
  
"Harry, Sirius is your godfather. But he is also a person of his own right. He needs a life, a family."  
  
"He said I was his family!" Harry's voice broke but he angrily wiped away the tears. He kicked the desk. "He makes promises and then he doesn't keep them. He promised he'd always be there for me. He promised my mom and dad he'd be their secret keeper. And then he …"  
  
Remus was by his side in a flash and grabbed his bony shoulders. Giving the boy a hard shake, he demanded: "Is this what you think? That Sirius betrayed your parents and now he is betraying you?"  
  
His face was pale with anger. "Did you tell him that?"  
  
Harry stared back defiantly. "He said I was right."  
  
"Of course he did, damn it! But just because he keeps blaming himself for it, doesn't mean he is guilty! Harry, he loved them. And he loves you."  
  
"I don't care."  
  
Remus took a deep breath and let go of the boy's sweater. "This is not true, and you know it! Sirius risked his life when he learned you were in danger."  
  
"And I saved him when the Dementors came to get him. I guess that makes us even." Harry's lip trembled. "He only cares about me because he feels guilty about what happened to Mom and Dad."  
  
"Harry …"  
  
The boy looked straight over Lupin's head. „It doesn't really matter, does it. I got by with the Dursleys most of my life." He shrugged. "May I go now, Professor? Quidditch practice has already started."  
  
Remus waved him out of the door, lost for words. Sitting down at his desk, he shook his head and sighed. "And to think I was jealous when they didn't make me the boy's godfather!"  
  
* * *  
  
Claire walked up the lawn in front of the castle. Sirius was teaching that afternoon and had arranged a meeting with Severus Snape for the early evening. She was nervous. Of course she needed all the information she could get, and apparently there was nobody in Hogwarts as familiar with Voldemort's organisation as the Potions master. That fact didn't calm her though and the mere sight of Hogwarts' high towers made her stomach rise.  
  
Laurel awaited her at the great door and smiled at her cheerfully.  
  
"Where are all the students?" Claire glanced at the empty hall.  
  
Laurel smirked. "Quidditch," she said and made it sound like a nasty skin- disease. "A match is on and everybody but me and the Fat Lady have gone to see innocent kids smash each others head in." When she saw Claire's confused face, she laughed. "I just got into this world too late to become a fan, I guess. But both Sirius and Severus are down at the pitch, and we are just lucky that Hufflepuff is playing Ravenclaw today."  
  
"Why?" asked Claire and felt incredibly stupid.  
  
"Well, Severus tends to take it personally when his precious little Slytherins get beaten. And Sirius …" she grinned and shook her head at the memory, "Sirius once caught a Quaffle out of mid-air and threw it right through the other team's hoops."  
  
"I thought that was the whole idea of Quidditch?"  
  
"But he wasn't even playing. He sat at the stands!"  
  
They both laughed and settled in front of the fire in the staff room. Laurel had hardly managed to get them tea and biscuits - with Claire, silently ashamed, pretending to watch her attempts with patience - when the door opened, and Snape entered.  
  
He bowed his head to Claire and stood behind Laurel's chair.  
  
She looked up at him. "How'd it go?"  
  
He scowled. "Hufflepuffs. They are no fighters."  
  
Claire blushed.  
  
Snape frowned. "I am sorry. You are a Hufflepuff, aren't you?"  
  
"I was, yes." She sat very straight. "And let me assure you, Professor, we do fight."  
  
"I didn't mean …" He sat down next to Laurel and reconsidered. "No. I did mean it. There is no use in pretending that I agree with this foolish plan."  
  
"Nobody asks you to agree with it." Sirius entered and his presence filled the room.  
  
Snape glared at him. "Don't tell me you think it wise to send her," he pointed at Claire, "into hell itself!"  
  
Laurel was about to come to Claire's help, when she saw the small woman rise and step so close to Severus that he had to look up to her.  
  
"Stop patronising me." Her voice was very calm. "I don't care whether you like it or not, but I am the only one right now who can play that part. I may not know as much as you do, but that's why I am here right now. To learn from you, not to be treated like a stupid child."  
  
She stepped back and sat down again, and only the slight tremble of her hands betrayed that she was close to tears and shocked about her own courage.  
  
Sirius watched her facing the austere Potions master and felt a sudden tinge of pride about his wife. For the first time 'the plan' did not look so hopelessly. He knew from a dozen of tiny signs that she was scared of Snape, insecure in the presence of Laurel and frightened of Peeves who hovered over the fireplace and kept sticking his tongue out at her. And still she appeared calm as the lake - her insecurity hidden deep down like the giant squid. If she could act that well in the presence of Malfoy, they might be quite successful as the couple who wanted to buy their way into the Inner Circle.  
  
Snape stared at her as if she had grown horns. Then he bowed his head and gave her a tiny smile. "Well spoken, Mrs White."  
  
Laurel exhaled slowly and settled back into her chair, watching the man she loved explaining about the various Death Eaters the Whites were to encounter at Lucius Malfoy's house. Sirius and Claire listened attentively, only now and then asking about details.  
  
"I suggest you use the event tomorrow to get comfortable in your pretend personality," Snape concluded.  
  
Sirius scowled. "Get comfortable in it?"  
  
"Consider it a robe you can wear or take off at will, Black. But while you are in it, you must not act. You must live it. The same goes for you, Claire. It is important to keep the two personalities apart. If you don't, you'll get lost."  
  
Claire nodded, quite impressed by the intense way the Potions master explained the dangers and traps of being a spy. Her head spun.  
  
"What role have you decided on for Black?" Snape asked her, and she instinctively picked at a hair strand.  
  
"I am going to be the inbred idiot of pure blood and no brains," Sirius growled and dared Snape to laugh.  
  
The Potions master smirked. "How very appropriate."  
  
Black rose and towered over Severus for a moment, clenching his fists. Then he sat down all of a sudden and grinned at the other wizard, as if he enjoyed the joke.  
  
Laurel watched in amazement how Claire had managed to calm her husband with one gaze and a slight bow of her head. She remembered very well how disturbing Black's moods and his vitriolic humour could be, and once more had to revise her opinion of Claire Winterstorm.  
  
"You'll have to dress your part, Black," the Potions master continued with obvious pleasure. "And you, Claire, must not do that," he nodded at her hand that was entangled in her hair. "It betrays that you are nervous. Don't forget that you are Mrs White, of pure blood and a great fortune. Nobility. Soon to be Death Eater. You have no reason to be nervous." He sighed. "At least not tomorrow night."  
  
"So this is more or less a social gathering?" asked Black.  
  
Snape shrugged. "Depends how you define social. You remember Lucius, don't you?"  
  
"Actually I do. Fucking pervert he was."  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Laurel, and all three stared at her. They had obviously forgotten about her presence. Snape reached for her hand and pressed it apologising.  
  
Black cleared his throat. "He liked to torture. Other students, animals, creatures. Whatever he could get. Dumbledore almost expelled him when he was a third year for cutting up a Wood Gnome. Got great pleasure out of it, watching the poor thing grow arms and legs to all the separate pieces."  
  
"He has not changed much. He still enjoys pain, suffering it as well as inflicting it on others. Keep your wife away from him."  
  
Claire gave him an angry stare.  
  
He rose both hands. "No, I am not patronising. I mean it. Keep her away from Lucius, she is just his type. He likes them fair and cool."  
  
"Narcissa," pondered Sirius. "I remember her as well."  
  
"I bet you do." Snape's mouth twitched. "You won't see her though, she rarely attends Lucius' parties. Try to meet as many people as possible. Wait until they are drunk and let them talk. Listen. Don't do anything. Do you hear me, Claire?" He leaned towards her. His voice was very serious now. "Whatever happens there, do not interfere!"  
  
"We agreed upon a set of inconspicuous signs," explained Sirius.  
  
"Better perform the Confundus charm when things get rough," suggested Snape.  
  
Claire blushed and avoided his suddenly intent gaze. "I …"  
  
"You do know this charm, don't you, Claire?" Snape's silky voice made Laurel worry. What was he after? Had he noticed anything she had not seen?  
  
Sirius reached for his teacup and by this move shielded Claire's face from Snape's stare. Hiding behind his broad shoulders Claire breathed in slowly. He knew! Snape knew she was a squib, couldn't do the Confundus charm, couldn't do any magic at all … Panic rose and strangled her.  
  
Sirius filled his teacup very carefully to give Claire time to calm down. He took two lumps of sugar, milk, stirred, added another drop of milk and more sugar and eventually leaned back.  
  
"Of course I know how to perform Confundus," Claire said and smiled. "I would be crazy to go to a Death Eaters party, if I had no command of simple spells like that, wouldn't I?"  
  
Black made a sound in between a laugh and a groan. "The tea," he explained when he felt everybody's stare at him. "It is too hot." He rose. "Claire and I have to leave now."  
  
"Thank you, Professor. It was very … enlightening." Claire smiled shyly at the Potions master.  
  
Laurel hugged her and whispered into her ear. "Call him Severus, or all that 'Professor' will go to his head." She looked at Black. "Good luck, Sirius."  
  
He bowed his head and laid a hand on Claire's back, stirring her out of the room.  
  
  
  
When they had left, Severus sat down into his chair and drew Laurel in his lap. Hugging her, he stared at the table and the teacups.  
  
"Something is wrong," he said softly. "Black lied. No, he was covering for her."  
  
"How do you know?" Laurel wondered and brushed his temple with her lips.  
  
"Four lumps of sugar and more milk than tea? Please! They lied, believe me."  
  
* * *  
  
As soon as they had left the castle Sirius let go of Claire. He wiped his forehead and groaned. "I always wanted to spend the evening with Severus," he growled. "Slytherins! You never know what they are up to."  
  
Claire breathed in. "Thank you for not telling him."  
  
It was almost dark now, and the night air was filled with scents and sounds she did not know. Suddenly she felt as if she could just spread her wings and fly - so great was her relief to have escaped the gaze of the Potions master who seemed to notice all her faults.  
  
Sirius looked at her. She had her eyes closed and her arms spread, taking in the soft breeze and the cooing of owls who were on their way to the Forbidden Forrest to hunt their dinner.  
  
"Let's go home," he suggested softly so he would not startle her.  
  
Claire nodded. "I told Peagreen we'd be at home by seven. She'll worry."  
  
Sirius frowned. "We'll be on time. It won't take more than five minutes to fly to Hogsmeade." Then he understood. "You walked, didn't you? You walked all the way from Hogsmeade to the castle!"  
  
"Of course I walked." Claire shrugged indignantly.  
  
"You walked through the Forbidden Forrest?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
  
"It is not dangerous … by day," she said defensively, at the same time scolding herself for doing so. He had no right to tell her what to do or where to walk.  
  
Obviously Sirius did not think so. "You will not walk through the Forrest again! I can show you a shortcut through one of the tunnels. Actually," he scratched his head, "it might be wise to inquire who owns the Shrieking Shack today."  
  
"The old hunted house? I do." She smiled almost apologising. "I thought it was a good investment. After all it is not really hunted. Or is it?"  
  
Sirius sighed. "I should have known. Well, you just bought your very own secret passage into Hogwarts. I'll show you how to use it. But you will not enter the Forrest again."  
  
Claire crossed her arms and shook her head. "I shall go where I like, Sirius. I though we agreed on that."  
  
"We agreed that you would not endanger your life. At least not as long as I am your bodyguard."  
  
She sight exasperatedly. "Let's go home. I am really tired."  
  
Sirius held her back. "You don't seriously mean to walk, do you? My broom can carry both of us." He pointed at the broomstick that leaned at a wall by the gate.  
  
"Your … broom?"  
  
He cupped her chin and forced her to look at him. "Claire," he asked softly. "You have ridden a broom before, haven't you?"  
  
She stared at him out of shiny eyes. "I have. But it's been a while." She swallowed. "When I was little, my father sometimes took me for a ride around the house."  
  
Sirius could have hit himself. Of course she had never ridden a broom alone, after all she was a squib and there was no way she could make a broom take off. To hide his shame about embarrassing her, he casually straddled the broomstick and tapped the handle in front of him. "Hop on!"  
  
Claire's heart drummed in her ears when she carefully sat onto the broomstick, grabbing the handle with both hands, faint with excitement and fear.  
  
"You don't need to be afraid," he said gently.  
  
Claire held on to the handle and looked straight ahead when Sirius kicked off and the broom slowly rose off the ground. "I am not …" She shrieked when he suddenly started away almost vertically and went right for the West Tower. "Ok, fine, I admit it. I am afraid." She kept her eyes clenched shut. "Oh please, Sirius, I admit it, I am afraid. Go down!"  
  
He laughed softly. Holding her safely with one arm to his chest, he slowed down and lowered the broom into a wide circle around the castle.  
  
Claire took heart and opened her eyes. She gasped when she saw the lake and the treetops of the Forbidden Forrest glide by under them. "This is … beautiful!"  
  
Slowly she relaxed and settled in his embrace. It felt … good. It felt right to sit so close to him. She could feel his warm breath tickle her ear. When she suddenly turned to point out a star at the horizon, his lips brushed her cheek and she froze.  
  
Sirius winced. It had been a while since he had held a woman so close. Actually it had been a while since he had touched anybody at all. And still, there was no reason apparent why the mere scent of this woman's hair should arouse him the way it did.  
  
He moved away from her as much as possible without letting go of her. It wouldn't do to let her fall off the broom just because he could not control the sudden urge to touch her, hold her so close she melded into him.  
  
Claire felt him slide back. Confused about the pleasure the slight touch of his lips had given her, she looked straight ahead for the last part of the ride and hopped of the broom in relief as soon as they landed in front of the manor.  
  
Kikki and Blossom carried the broom to the garage.  
  
Sirius looked at the big house with its lightened windows and open doors. Suddenly he knew he could not bare walls around him just now, however welcoming they might be. The attacks were fewer since he had escaped from Azkaban where he had spent most of his days in a black pit, desperately trying to silence the pleading voices in his head. Now he often had a whole week without the coldness welling up in him. He shivered. There were only two ways to deal with the attacks - he could do what he done in Azkaban and slowly lose his mind. Or he could outrun the voices …  
  
"I am not hungry," he said and stayed at the foot of the stairs. "I'd rather take a walk. Don't wait up for me."  
  
Claire was surrounded by warm light from the hall when she looked down at him and he could not read her face. Her voice was cool and detached.  
  
"Of course not."  
  
She turned and entered the house, and Peagreen closed the door behind her.  
  
* * *  
  
The big black dog broke through the underwood, oblivious of the nettles and thorns that got caught in his fur. He ran so fast his muscles protested, his heart thundered, his breath burned in his lungs, and still he dared not to stop. He ran for hours, in a wide circle all around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, over the Muggle freeway, through a brook, and back to Winterstorm Manor. His paws were raw and bleeding, his throat dry, but his mind was calm now. Somewhere on the run he had left the voices behind. But come time they would catch up.  
  
He transformed and gingerly walked up the stairs to the entrance, his shoes in hand.  
  
Peagreen opened the door yawning.  
  
"It is you, Miss Claire's Sirius," she enthused. "Me was worried." She looked at his naked feet in horror. "You is all cut and bleeding. Better tell Miss Claire. She will make it good again."  
  
Sirius shook his head. "It is nothing, Peagreen. Let's keep it our secret, OK?"  
  
"Miss Claire's Sirius is giving Peagreen a secret?" The elf hopped up and down excitedly. "Our secret! Peagreen is very good with secrets, she is!"  
  
Sirius smiled at her exhaustedly. Carefully he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. He needed some sleep or he'd be useless tomorrow evening.  
  
He never knew that Claire lay awake in her bed until she heard the soft steps at the stairs.  
  
* * *  
  
On the morning of the great day, Claire could barely hide her nervousness. She spilled her morning tea all over the table and her business mail. She even broke the semi-magical quill she used to pen replies.  
  
Eventually Sirius held a hand out to her. "Let's go for a walk."  
  
He used the opportunity to show her the entrance to the secret tunnel in the Shrieking Shack and saw with contentment how she forgot about the evening for a while.  
  
  
  
When they came back, they entered the house by the backdoor and passed the kitchen where the elves were busy preparing lunch. Off the corridor a door stood open. In the small room Sirius saw more than a dozen trunks, each with brass corners and small name-shields. He hunched on his heels to read what the plates said. "Peagreen. Coco. Kikki."  
  
"They belong to the elves," said Claire.  
  
"I never heard of elves who keep private property." He stood up and saw her smile. The door was open and two of the elves passed by, both carefully avoiding to look into the room.  
  
"They don't seem all too interested."  
  
"Oh but they are. They just think the trunks are a scandal. Not proper, you know. They still hope that they'll go away if they keep ignoring them."  
  
"I don't understand." He frowned. "What is in the trunks?"  
  
She went to the first one and opened the lid. Sirius saw a pair of socks, small pants and a shirt, all elf-sized and obviously custom made. Next to the tiny garments lay a small pile of silver coins.  
  
He raised his brows. "You pay your elves?"  
  
"I pay whoever works for me. The salespeople in my stores. The printers, manufactures, lawyers. Why shouldn't I pay my elves?"  
  
"But I thought …" he tried to remember what his mother had told him about House-elves, "they don't want to be paid."  
  
Claire carefully closed the lid and gave him a sheepish grin. "They hate it."  
  
"Do they ever open their trunks and check what is in them?"  
  
"Of course they don't. They do their best to ignore this room and pretend it is all empty."  
  
"Then why …"  
  
Claire looked up at him, and a shadow of sadness fell over her face. "I want them to be free."  
  
"But obviously they like it very much in your household. They love you, Claire."  
  
"But if they ever want to leave, they can."  
  
She turned and walked out of the room.  
  
Sirius followed her. They had only been married for a week by now but his wife puzzled him more and more. Nobody had noticed his fit of panic at the registry office but her. And she had never mentioned it to him, but had given him the largest bedroom in the house, an airy light room with many windows. She seemed to be incredibly attentive of people. But then she had not met anybody for so many years. Everything had to be new and remarkable. He could only hope this ability would prove useful this evening at Malfoy's.  
  
Claire called him from the salon.  
  
"Sirius? You should try the clothes Serene chose for you. If they don't fit, Coco can alter them if you want."  
  
"Serene picked my clothes?" His face showed a mixture of despair and disgust.  
  
"She is very creative."  
  
"Oh I bet she is."  
  
"You don't like her very much," Claire asked casually while she went to get the big bundle of clothes she had bought at Serene's advice at Gladrags.  
  
"She holds my best friend's heart in her hands and stabs a knife into it once in a while. No, I don't like her at all."  
  
"Funny, I had the impression she loved Remus."  
  
"Did she tell you that?"  
  
Claire thought about it. "No. But I saw her looking at him when she thinks he doesn't notice it."  
  
"Serene knows very well how he feels about her. She plays her little games with him, like a cat tortures a mouse." His voice was thick with contempt.  
  
"Remus means a lot to you, doesn't he?"  
  
He only nodded. Claire watched worriedly how his blue eyes darkened until they appeared black. It was as if he withdrew into a dimension out of her reach. But when she opened the bundle, his sadness evaporated at once. His eyes widened in shock.  
  
"Serene picked this? The witch is spite incarnate!"  
  
Claire suppressed a nervous giggle. The dress robes had looked quite pink in the wizards' department at Gladrags. Now, in the bright afternoon light, they were … well, painfully pink.  
  
"I shall not wear this!" Sirius picked up a snakeskin boot with two fingers and held it up as if it was something dead and particularly nasty. "And this!" he pointed accusingly at a broad belt, encrusted with rhinestone.  
  
"Serene said, if you were a inbred pureblood you'd wear clothes like these." Claire held up a high pointed hat with a velvety purple brim.  
  
Sirius exhaled loudly and sat down, his face buried in his palms. His shoulders trembled. A sound, close to a sob, escaped from behind his hands.  
  
Claire stood by the table, the dress robes clutched to her breast. Would the insecurity ever fade? Would she ever be able to look at him and tell how he felt? She had not meant to insult him, but if the plan was to work, he had to play his part and look it.  
  
"Sirius?" she ventured. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Oh Merlin!" He fell off the chair. Holding his sides, he lay on the floor, helplessly laughing. Claire watched him in awe, and for a second she was sure that Serene had been right and Sirius was indeed mad.  
  
"Sorry," he gasped.  
  
Claire smiled shakily. "You are not angry?"  
  
"Angry?" That started another bout of mirth. "No, I am not angry." He wiped his eyes. "Just promise me one thing."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"No pictures. If Moony ever sees me like this, I'll never hear the end of it!"  
  
She nodded sincerely.  
  
* * *  
  
While Coco braided her hair and fussed with the Winterstorm diamonds, Claire closed her eyes and tried to calm down. She had never been so afraid. No, she corrected herself and remembered the day when she had tried to run away from home. She had turned thirteen and while everybody else would return to Hogwarts this first September week, her father had told her that she was to stay at home. Not just for now, but for as long as they could not find a remedy to her condition. A remedy! She laughed bitterly and winced when Coco accidentally pricked her with a hair pin.  
  
"Miss Claire, you is not to move when I is braiding you!" the elf cried and her huge eyes met Claire's pale face in the mirror. "Oh Miss, you is thinking about Ygor again, is you!"  
  
Claire had not told the elves about the meeting, and was glad to be able to blame all her nervousness and fear on the grief for Ygor.  
  
"Ygor he was a proud troll," Coco tried to comfort her. "He always says to me, Coco he says, I die gladly to save Missy Claire."  
  
"But if I had not run away, he would still be alive."  
  
"Miss Claire, the Muggle world is dangerous, but you is a child then. How is you to know?"  
  
A Muggle car had run over Ygor that night on a street in the next Muggle village. They had not even made it to London. Claire sighed and closed her eyes again. Even then she had been too romantic, had read too many books about girls who ran away and fought and built their own life.  
  
"You is beautiful, Miss Claire!" Coco enthused.  
  
"Thank you, munchkin," smiled Claire without looking into the mirror. She knew very well how she looked. But the admiration of the elf was uplifting. She had never desired to be beautiful. She had always wanted to be free. Only lately she sat in front of the mirror sometimes, stared at her face and wished she had a bit of Serene's beauty.  
  
Stupid woman, she scolded herself. This marriage had been her idea, and living with Sirius had turned out surprisingly pleasant. And she really did not feel … anything for him.  
  
She walked down the stairs and stopped dead, when she saw her husband. Clasping a hand to her mouth, she desperately tried to regain her composure. The fire in his eyes dared her to say something, just one word about his attire. She bit her tongue, but when Coco clapped her tiny hands in approval and acclaimed "Oh, you is pretty too, Miss Claire's Sirius!" she could not control the laughter anymore. Giggling helplessly, she had to sit down on the stairs.  
  
Sirius stood in the hall, magnificently decked out in pink robes, velvet hat and sparkling belt. He watched her laughing, arms akimbo, and waited patiently until she could breathe again. Then he held out a hand to help her stand up.  
  
He took in the slender grey robes she wore, the diamonds that glittered at her neck and ears, and the crown of pale hair. Cool and elegant, he thought. Sometimes - like just now, when she had giggled - she seemed to be human. But most of the time she was just so fucking perfect, so detached. She managed this crazy household single-handed in spite of her handicap. Not to mention the Winterstorm Bookstores, Winterstorm Owlery Supply Stores and whatever bore the Winterstorm crest and made money.  
  
"You look very lovely," he said softly and meant it.  
  
Claire's eyes met his and for a heartbeat it was as if he could look right into her soul. The naked fear he saw took him by surprise. The hand he held trembled and he could feel her pulse race.  
  
"You need not be afraid."  
  
She tensed and withdrew her hand. "I am not …" Sighing she gave up. "You are right. I am so afraid I almost threw up half an hour ago."  
  
"Voldemort won't be there tonight. Think of it as a social gathering. A party. Just a bunch of people talking and drinking."  
  
"Right. Keep going and I'll surely throw up," she winced. "I have never been to a party!"  
  
* * * 


	4. Free Will

4. Free Will  
  
  
  
Apparating was easy, thought Claire - as long as Sirius did it and all she had to do was hold on to him. It felt a bit as if her whole body had imploded and expanded again right in front of a great manor she knew from 'Wizarding Houses in Britain', one of Winterstorm's best-sellers every Christmas. Had it been a Muggle Building it would be listed in every guide, but being magical as Hogwarts it stood in the middle of a wide open field the Muggles called a golf course and none of them ever saw it. Malfoy spent a lot of money to keep the house updated with every safeguarding spell invented and took great pride in its location.  
  
She sighed. Apparating had made her feel good, all warm and just a little bit dizzy, and there was this throbbing sound, getting faster, almost like the sound of a ... With shock she realised that she still persisted in Sirius' embrace. It was his heartbeat she heard, and the warmth she felt came from his body. Her cheek nestled against thin silk, and something hard pressed against her stomach. A bit startled she realised that it probably was not the rhinestone belt ... She was not stupid, she had read about ... that. Wizards and witches, the fundamental differences in anatomy and all. She had even seen moving diagrams that explained how children were conceived and born. And still, neither the books nor the pictures had said anything about the sweet ache in her heart, the lightness of her head and the scent of clean male skin. She sighed again and instinctively snuggled up to him even closer.  
  
Sirius swallowed hard and closed his eyes. His body betrayed him, again.  
  
"Claire ...," he muttered hoarsely. "We have arrived. Malfoy can see us."  
  
She grabbed the broad collar of his robe. "I can't do this, Sirius," she whispered. "I just can't go in there. ... Too many people."  
  
"You can and you must. It's your plan, and it's a good plan. I don't particularly like it ..." he looked so unhappy in his pink fashion robes she just had to smile. "But it is a good plan nevertheless. And you can do this."  
  
Claire sighed and straightened. "I can do this. I am a pure blood. I am a Winterstorm. And I am ..."  
  
"Rich ..." he prompted.  
  
"Right."  
  
She stood there on the lawn as if she had no care in the world and let Malfoy come down the stairs to greet them. He was a slender wizard with fair hair and pale eyes. Claire recognised his face from the society section of the 'Daily Prophet', where he appeared once in a while with his wife Narcissa attending charity events.  
  
"My dear Miss Winterstorm ..."  
  
Sirius hit him square on the back and gave him a big grin. "Sorry to disappoint you, old boy," he drawled, "But the lady is taken. It's Mrs White now, if you don't mind."  
  
Malfoy's thin mouth twitched and he stared just a moment too long at Sirius' pink robes and astonishing belt.  
  
"Ah, yes, how negligent of me. My congratulations, Mrs White. And Mr White."  
  
Clare gave him a thin smile she had practised in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Malfoy. We are very ... happy." She laid a proprietary hand on Sirius' arm. "Why don't we go inside? It's getting chilly."  
  
  
  
The house was breathtaking in its beauty and wealth. Malfoy did not make the effort to hide his pride. The Malfoys, he told Claire pointing out various ancestors, had come to Britain with Willibald the Confusor.  
  
While Claire asked questions about paintings and the ancient magical objects that were displayed in glass cases, Sirius's eyes wandered off and checked out the crowd that gathered in the salon and on the terrace, drinking and chatting merrily. He recognised many faces, some from the 'Prophet', but most from the list of acquitted Death Eaters Snape had compiled for him.  
  
"And here is the lovely Mrs White," Malfoy introduced them to an elderly couple. According to him the wizard was one of the Judges of the High Court of Magic and had only a week ago been appointed supervisor of Azkaban. "And her husband, of course."  
  
The judge's wife looked up at Sirius and gave him a smile Claire did not like at all. She wasn't really sure what bugged her, after all the woman had not said anything. But she looked like the little girl who had stolen Claire's stuffed toy the first night in the dorm in Hogwarts. She recognised the same desire and determination in the older witch's eyes. Better to stay on Sirius's side.  
  
  
  
Within minutes they got separated.  
  
Sirius flirted his way through the room. He had not forgotten how to do it, and hadn't he been Hogwarts biggest flirt ever? He still could do it, a quick glance, an accidental touch ... But this was different. This was not fun, and he did not remember his female counterparts reacting so aggressively and blunt. Still, he gathered bits and pieces of information, names, locations, relations.  
  
Malfoy took Claire's arm and wandered with her through the various rooms, apologising for his wife not attending the party.  
  
"Narcissa is not very interested in politics, I am afraid," he elaborated. "How about Mr. White?"  
  
Claire shrugged and her diamonds dazzled. "I did not marry Sirius for his interest in ... politics," she smirked. "He got his own interests, and I don't mind him teaching, but I don't want him to interfere with my businesses or ... other things."  
  
"Teaching?" Malfoy frowned.  
  
"Sirius is an Animagus and insists on his teaching stunt in Hogwarts."  
  
"But he is not ..."  
  
"Not registered, no." She gave him a condescending smile. "But all those ridiculous rules and regulations the Ministry insist upon, are only for commoners, don't you think?"  
  
He kissed her hand. "Exactly."  
  
Somebody raised a glass and called a toast to "Those who are not forgotten!" and Malfoy stirred Claire into the salon.  
  
"To the Lestranges," he said solemnly.  
  
"To the Lestranges," the crowd answered.  
  
Claire searched for Sirius' face, but he was gone.  
  
Slipping away from Malfoy's side, she elbowed her way out of the room, wandering the corridors and eventually upstairs to look for Sirius. When she found him, he stood close to the wall, head drawn back, hands flat against the cold stones. His breath was flat and too fast, his skin pale as death. The long black lashes and a faint stubble accentuated the rough beauty of his face.  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
Claire gingerly touched his cheek. The skin was clammy and cold, and he did not show a reaction, didn't even seem to know she was there. She tapped his shoulder, gave him a shake and now she really got worried. "Sirius, talk to me."  
  
His lips moved but all she could hear was a moan, almost inaudible.  
  
"Nooo ..."  
  
People passed the corridor, laughing and chatting and throwing curious glances in their direction. Claire's heart skipped a beat in panic. What was she to do? Any minute one of them would approach and ask if anything was wrong.  
  
Desperately she rose on tiptoes and kissed Sirius. Her lips touched his, and she almost jerked back with the unfamiliar sensation. She didn't know what to do, she had never kissed anybody but her parents, oh, and Roger McNamara in her second year at Hogwarts. But her kissing technique certainly had not improved since then. All she could do was close her eyes and rely on her heart. Her mother had taught her to treat people the way she'd want to be treated by them - and this was what she did now. Tenderly she took his bottom lip between hers, nibbled on it. Her tongue touched the corner of his mouth, tiny caresses, again and again followed by light kisses.  
  
Sirius felt the darkness lift off his shoulders like a heavy cloak. When the Lestranges had been mentioned, a voice in his head had started to wail so pitifully he could hardly refrain from screaming. He had just time enough to run up the stairs and hope nobody would find him there, while he tried to fight the voices and the cold darkness. It had not been that bad for weeks.  
  
Slowly he became aware of the sweet sensation of soft lips, warm breath, a moist tongue that teased him, dared him to open his mouth, let it in. A shudder ran over his body. The pleading in his head ceased, the voices faded and so did the suffocating darkness.  
  
In a smooth motion he embraced the slender body of the woman who kissed him, lifted her up and pressed her against the wall. Covering her with his body, he answered her kisses, but not softly. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, explored, conquered, vanquished. He did not get the reaction he expected. The rhythm was wrong, their noses got in the way, and when he eventually bit her bottom lip, she protested softly but bluntly.  
  
"Sirius, stop!"  
  
She felt his cheek as if she wanted to check his temperature. And then it came to him, that she probably never had touched a man, kissed a man before him. At least not like this ...  
  
He almost pushed her off him, held her away from his body with strong arms.  
  
"I am OK." He said it softly so nobody but Claire would hear it. "Don't touch me, when I am like this."  
  
"Like this?" Her voice was only a whisper. "Are you trying to say this happens often?"  
  
He avoided her eyes.  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
"I can handle it." His face was all empty, the blue eyes were hard stones. "Just stay away from me." When he saw her confused and injured face, he reached for her hand in apology. "Claire, I might hurt you."  
  
"Don't worry. You won't get the opportunity." She turned on her heel and went back into the salon.  
  
  
  
"We shall rise to power, and then nobody will ever dare to stand in our way." Malfoy smiled at Claire like a salesman.  
  
She touched the gilded frame of a portrait on the wall and woke one of her host's ancestors. He had the same disturbing pale eyes and pale hair. Admiring all the pictures, Claire kept her back to Malfoy, so she wouldn't have to meet his stare. The man freaked her out.  
  
"Power," she mused and her voice sounded much more bored than she felt. "But I already have power. You'd be surprised how little there is money or a name can't buy."  
  
She looked across the library through the open door to Sirius, who stood by the fireplace in the salon, letting one of his admirers refill his goblet, not for the first time. Nobody could have guessed that the very same wizard had only an hour ago been nothing but a wreck, trying to melt into the wall, uttering wordless moans of absolute terror. His voice had taken on a slight drawl now, an uncertainty that called of a goblet too many. She could only hope he was that good an actor and not really drunk.  
  
Malfoy had followed her gaze and smiled knowingly. "Ah, Mr White. Quite a specimen you got there. I think we agree on the benefits of pure blood. Physical features always inherit well."  
  
"He is tall and handsome, and even cousin Valerius could not find a fault in his blood-line."  
  
"Well, but obviously Sirius is not ... very bright, is he?" Malfoy scowled at the little group by the fireplace.  
  
"I got brains enough myself, thank you very much," she replied with raised eyebrows.  
  
He stepped closer and kissed her hand. "I like that in a woman."  
  
I bet you do, thought Claire and forced herself to not pull back her hand too fast. "But tell me again, why should I want more power?"  
  
Malfoy shrugged. "Most of the people who follow Voldemort do it for petty things. Sex. Money. Safety. You and I, we have all this. And still, the Dark Lord can give us something we can not buy. Power beyond anything you can imagine."  
  
She just looked at him. His face had gone red and there was something in his eyes that reminded her of how Coco looked when she talked about Harry Potter. Worship. Idolisation.  
  
She clasped her hand in front and kept her face blank. "Power," she repeated.  
  
"Power to do what ever you like. Without any authority questioning you."  
  
"Whatever I like?"  
  
His eyes burned. "Take. Hurt. Kill. Whatever you like. Absolute power."  
  
"That sounds ... fascinating."  
  
"It does, doesn't it? But the fight for supremacy is expensive. Bribes. Curses. The Master's needs ... They must be financed."  
  
"The Master's needs?"  
  
He waved his hand impatiently. "Later. For now this is all I can tell you. He rewards his servants thousandfold. But he also punishes thousandfold, rest assured."  
  
"But some of his supporters are still prisoners in Azkaban. I assume the Lestranges you toasted are amongst those who are being punished?"  
  
Malfoy's face turned an angry red. "The Lestranges are loyal. And the reward they'll receive from his hands will make up for all the years in Azkaban. And soon."  
  
  
  
Sirius sat in a chair by the fire and stretched his long legs. He vowed silently he would never ever give a witch the once-over. Why hadn't anybody told him how humiliating it was when they stared at you like hungry hyenas would stare at a piece of meat?  
  
He hated the silk robes he wore, because they gave these witches - and even some of the wizards - the excuse to touch him just to enthuse about how elegantly the material showed off the muscles of his chest. And now the judge's wife sat next to him and let her hand wander up his thigh ... Abruptly he rose and sauntered over to the decanter of wine.  
  
A small witch with reddish curls ran her hand through his hair and he gritted his teeth. The urge to push her away was almost overwhelming. The most disturbing thing was that Claire's touch could arouse him so instantly and the much franker touch of Malfoy's friends just made him sick. After so many years without physical contact, without sex, one should suppose he'd take any opportunity to get a willing woman into his bed - or on the couch in the study as one of the witches had suggested. But then, he had not even entered Claire's bedroom ...  
  
Honour. It was all he had left. That, and the promise he had given James and Lily. He'd avenge their death and protect Harry. And if playing the stud of Britain's richest witch helped him to keep that promise, he'd do it.  
  
He flexed his biceps when his audience demanded it giggling.  
  
"Ah Sirius," gasped one of the witches and gave him a hungry smile. "You must come to our next party. The flavour of entertainment will be different, but I trust you'll like it."  
  
"The flavour?" he drawled.  
  
"It is so ... boring when everyone is ... willing." She traced his jaw with a sharp fingernail. "Malfoy insists on consent in his house. But then again - what is magic for?"  
  
He stared at her quizzically, but she didn't even look at his face but kept her attention to his body.  
  
"Just one word from you and I'd be very ... consenting."  
  
Sirius' blood froze.  
  
"Are you thinking what I am thinking?" he asked suggestively.  
  
She rose on tiptoes and whispered into his ear, but not without sticking her tongue in it first. "Imperius ..."  
  
He cleared his throat and the witch took it as an approval and conjured a business card. "My husband is not jealous," she smiled. "In fact, he might even join us."  
  
Sirius saw Malfoy leave the library and whisper into the ear of a young wizard. They shared a silent joke and left. Claire was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly alarmed Sirius handed the goblet to the witch and gave her the sly smile she expected. "Excuse me for a moment, a call of nature."  
  
The witch licked her lips. "If you need any help ..."  
  
But the object of her desire had already pushed his way through the crowd that barred the doors of the salon.  
  
Just as Claire had wandered around looking for him an hour ago, Sirius now made his way through the maze of rooms, staircases and wings of the old house. More than once he disturbed a couple in a closet, and after apologising the first time, he simply slammed the door after a while with growing worry.  
  
  
  
Claire could not think. Or more precisely, she could think, but it was awfully hard, as if her brain had turned into sticky toffee. Every though needed so much effort, and it seemed so much easier to just comply to the orders of the wizard next to her.  
  
She had met Carl Prenner outside the study, when Malfoy had excused himself to talk to a few newly arrived guests. He had seemed friendly enough and had promised to show her some of Malfoy's most precious first editions in the library. And now she kneeled in front of him and just could not decide to get up. He had cast some spell, one she did not know, had never read about ... She tried to fight the compulsion to do as he told her and almost surfaced from the sleepiness of her brain. But then the wizard grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard shake.  
  
She winced, but gave in.  
  
Her hands moved over his crotch obediently, unbuttoning his fly one button after the other.  
  
  
  
Sirius did not trust his eyes when he opened the door to the library.  
  
One glance at Claire's empty face and he knew she did not act out of free will. His stomach revolted when he recognised what was going on. He drew his wand.  
  
"Finite incantatem!"  
  
At once Claire's hands fell down. The expression on her face turned from empty obedience to utter horror.  
  
"You fucking bastard!" Sirius grabbed the wizards robe at the neck and shoved his face into the wall. Prenner screamed. Blood shot from his broken nose, soiling Sirius' hand when he hit him square in the face.  
  
Claire still kneeled at the floor, aware now, shaking with disgust and nausea. Her robe was torn at the breasts, and her arms and neck hurt where Prenner had dug his fingers into her flesh.  
  
Sirius let go of Prenner and pushed the wailing wizard into a corner. Kneeling next to Claire, he reached out to touch her face and winced when she recoiled. The glance he gave Prenner was murderous.  
  
"If you ever come near my wife again, I'll kill you." Plan or not, spy- identity or not, he'd kill the bastard, he vowed silently.  
  
Malfoy pushed into the room, alarmed by the shouts. For a moment he froze, taking in the scene, Claire kneeling, Prenner bleeding, Sirius fuming.  
  
"Your ... friend ... tried to rape my wife."  
  
"Have you gone mad?" Malfoy yelled at Prenner, his face red with fury. "She is not some piece of meat you can use for your entertainment!"  
  
"But fhe complied! You faid I could have anybody who ...," wailed the wizard, who clutched his smashed nose with both hands.  
  
"She did not consent." Sirius' voice was icy. And although the kneeling wizard still looked ridiculous in his oh-so-fashionable robes and boots, Malfoy stepped back in sudden unease. "He cast the Unforgivable Curse on her."  
  
"Is that true?"  
  
Prenner bowed his head and avoided Malfoy's pale stare.  
  
Malfoy drew his wand and pointed it at Prenner.  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
The wizard started to scream, oblivious to the broken nose now. He went down, thrashing and crying in agony. Finally when his fingernails drew blood, Malfoy took the curse back and turned to Claire.  
  
"An unforgivable error deserves an Unforgivable Curse."  
  
Claire allowed Sirius to help her stand, and he avoided to touch her more than necessary. She clenched her fists and stepped away from Malfoy, from the sobbing wizard on the floor, from the few people who had entered when they heard Prenner's screams. She had to keep up the appearance of the shrewd noble-witch until they had left, she reminded herself. Even if she felt like crying ...  
  
"We shall leave now. Thank you for this very ... informative ... evening."  
  
Malfoy's voice bore a tinge of worry. "Our arrangement, Mrs White. Is it still up?"  
  
Claire raised one pale eyebrow and gave him a condescending smile. "You'll understand that I am not fully convinced yet, Malfoy. How am I to trust a wizard who can't even control his fellow conspirators?"  
  
"Prenner will be punished for what he did, you have my word. Crucio is nothing compared to what Our Lord Voldemort will do to him."  
  
Claire knew she should feel sorry for Prenner, but she didn't.  
  
"I'll think about it, Malfoy."  
  
"You'll receive another invitation. I can only hope that then you'll see how well organised we are."  
  
"My wife is ... exhausted. We shall leave now," interrupted Sirius bluntly. He gently pushed Claire out of the house, shielding her from curious glances when he felt her composure was about to fall to pieces any moment now.  
  
"Oh, and Malfoy, old boy ..." he stared at the wizard and kept the slightly dumb expression of Mr White although he felt like throttling their host on his own threshold. "You won't mind, will you?"  
  
Wiping off his bloodstained hands on Malfoy's pristine robes, he turned, drew Claire in his arms and Disapparated.  
  
  
  
He Apparated in front of Winterstorm Manor, clutching Claire close to him.  
  
"It's over," he murmured soothingly. "You have been very brave, baby."  
  
Claire stared at him and a sudden violent spasm shook her body. She broke down to her knees, retching and gasping and finally throwing up on the flowerbed and Sirius' dress-robes. He held back her hair and waited patiently. Imperius meant not only mind rape, but also a violation of the body. The reaction was only natural, and probably cleansing for all he knew. He had seen strong wizards, big heavy guys who, when snapping out of the Unforgiven Curse, cried like infants.  
  
When she was all empty, he simply swept her up. He knew she was too weak to walk even the few steps to the entrance of her house. He pushed open the door with his foot and carried her up the stairs, not stopping to answer the desperate questions of Claire's elves.  
  
"Back off," he said through gritted teeth and pushed open the bathroom door. "She'll be fine."  
  
He wasn't so confident when he looked into her face. She was pale as death.  
  
Muttering a spell he ran her a bath and didn't bother with the semi-magical appliances that dispensed soap but conjured what he needed while he undressed his wife. The grey robes were ruined, but she would not have worn them ever again anyway after what had happened. He threw the shreds of fabric into a corner and made a mental note to ask Coco to dispose of it before Claire stumbled upon it again.  
  
Claire stood like a statue, motionless but for a violent shudder now and then. Cursing softly, Sirius picked the pins out of her hair and tied it up. When she was undressed he lifted her up and sat her into the bath. She seemed to relax a little in the warmth and he cupped her chin and coaxed her to look at him.  
  
"Baby, listen to me."  
  
His voice was very gentle and he took great care to not let any of the anger shine through, the fury he felt when he remembered her empty face and that bastard's hands on her. "You can wash it off, OK?" He put the cloth in her limp hand and closed her fingers around it. "He is nothing but dirt, and you can wash it off."  
  
She bowed her head and suddenly her whole body heaved in great big sobs. Helplessly Sirius watched her cry, and could think of nothing but holding her hand and the damn wash cloth. Eventually she calmed down a little.  
  
"Sorry I threw up on you," she sobbed.  
  
"My favourite robes," he gave her a shaky grin.  
  
"I'll buy you new ones."  
  
"Let Serene pick them. Her taste is simple immaculate, I've been told." That made her laugh. And while Sirius undressed and took a shower, Claire scrubbed every inch of her skin until she felt she had scraped away every molecule of Malfoy, his friends, his house and whatever had happened there.  
  
When Sirius stepped out of the shower, the tub was empty. He shook the water from his hair like the big black dog would do, and shrugged into the thick night-blue robe that somebody - Claire, not Serene, he suspected - had bought for him.  
  
Claire sat in the big four poster bed of hers, propped on the pillows, a blanket covering her body very demurely considering he had seen her stark naked only minutes ago.  
  
Sirius sat down on the side of the bed, carefully not to touch her. She looked much better now, her hair fastened in a loose braid, her skin slightly reddened from the fierce wash.  
  
"Do you want me to get Peagreen or Coco?" he asked.  
  
Claire reached out and touched his bare chest without meeting his eyes. The skin felt warm under her trembling hands. Biting her tongue in concentration she dared to slide her fingers further under his robes until Sirius caught her wrist.  
  
"Claire, look at me," he said softly.  
  
Her eyes were huge and shimmered with uncried tears.  
  
"You don't need to do this."  
  
"Yes, I do," she whispered. "Don't you understand, Sirius? If I don't, then these pictures, the screams, the ... blood ... will always be with me."  
  
"And whenever you think about ... sex, the pictures will overshadow any pleasure you might feel," he said very softly, more to himself.  
  
She nodded ever so lightly. "Make them go away, Sirius."  
  
His breath faltered. "How do you know I am not like ... that bastard at Malfoy's? What if I ..."  
  
"You could have come into my bedroom anytime. You could have forced me, but you didn't."  
  
"I told you, I'd only take what you were willing to give.."  
  
"That's how I know you are not like him."  
  
Her hands wandered freely over his shoulders, his arms. He was all muscles and sinew, hard, lean, so very different from her own body. And then she kissed him, still unfamiliar with the intimate touch of lips against lips, but desperately.  
  
Sirius pushed her back, gently but unmistakably.  
  
"The first time you fuck, it should be with a wizard you love."  
  
He did not look at her. The offer that he could have her, here, now, made him dizzy with need and desire. He had wanted her all evening long, watching her with Malfoy. 'Good Godric,' he thought in self-loathing, 'even when that pig had her under the Imperius, I wanted her.'  
  
She shook her head so desperately the hair strands escaped from the loose braid.  
  
"I'd rather ... fuck ... a wizard I trust."  
  
Her skin blushed easily and he watched the embarrassment crawl up to the roots of her hair. "But if you don't want me ..." Her voice broke and she pulled up the blanket in a desperate effort to recover a minor amount of decency.  
  
Sirius touched her breast where the blanket met bare skin and slowly, gently pulled her defence away. She offered herself, freely, and he felt he was not strong enough, not noble enough, to refuse. He slid the palms of his hands over her smooth skin with the wonder of rediscovering something he had almost forgotten. But then the rhythm came back to him, had always been there like a song. Claire heard him murmur something, soft reassuring words.  
  
His kissed her again, and slowly she got into it, suddenly all naked, bare skin against bare skin. His hands teased and stroked, coaxed and led the way, touched her in places that made her sigh and other places that made her bite her lips.  
  
He was big, and when he entered her, Claire could not stifle a gasp of pain. Sirius stopped at once, shoulders and arms trembling with tension.  
  
"Did I hurt you?" His words were but a moan, and she saw in his face how hard it came to him to not give in to the rapture.  
  
"Go on, Sirius. Don't stop now, please," she begged. Heat spread over her body and she pushed the pain to the back of her mind. It was still there, but only located in one spot, and there were so many other, better things to feel. The weight of his muscular body, his naked skin against hers, the sweet taste of his mouth ...  
  
"It's been a while," he moaned close to her ear. "I am not sure if I can restrain any longer."  
  
Claire's hands ventured down his back and stroked over his taunt buttocks.  
  
"Don't hold back," she whispered. "  
  
Something, her words, the touch of her hands, the scent of sweat, broke the dam.  
  
"I am sorry, baby," he groaned, and thrust almost violently. "I am so sorry."  
  
All Claire could do was hold on for dear life and hope he would not squash her through sheer physical strength, when the muscular body pounded onto her, filling her to the limit, almost tearing her apart. She registered every wordless moan, every feverish caress his hands spread over her skin. And when he suddenly froze and then exploded in her very core, with a sound that was closer to a cry than a groan, she could do nothing but bury her hands in his hair and hold him.  
  
  
  
"Just give me ten minutes to catch my breath," he panted laying on his back afterwards, the linen sheets casually covering his lower body. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."  
  
"Don't worry." She propped herself on one elbow and smiled shyly. "I liked it well enough. It felt ... good."  
  
"Good!" he groaned and covered his eyes with his arm in mock despair.  
  
Claire watched him, saw his chest heave and sink, and the slight layer of sweat that covered his skin.  
  
"What's wrong with good?"  
  
"Nothing," he replied slowly. "But your first time should be better than this. Not just good. It should be memorable."  
  
"Oh, believe me ..."  
  
He sat up, lazy, catlike, and stretched. Claire liked the way his muscles played under the tanned skin so much she could not refrain from touching his chest. There was a fine line of hair trailing down past his stomach.  
  
"Believe me, I'll remember you," she whispered. Always, she thought. When this charade is over and you are gone, I'll remember this very moment.  
  
His blue eyes sought hers. "I don't want you to remember me for the pain. I want you to remember me for the pleasure."  
  
In honest confusion she shook her head.  
  
"There was not much pain." Her voice had gone all shaky while he was looking at her.  
  
Sirius took her hand and placed its palm over his heart. "This time there will be just pleasure."  
  
"I thought ..." she blushed again, "you looked like ... you experienced intense pleasure."  
  
Her account of the situation was so sincere and so accurate it made him laugh.  
  
"Oh, I did."  
  
"So it was OK?"  
  
"Claire," he said softly and with the same sincerity he saw in her eyes. "It was more than OK. But I see this as a ... " He sought for a concept she'd understand. "A deal. Both sides need to win to call a deal satisfying, don't they?"  
  
She slowly nodded.  
  
"Sometimes the satisfaction can result just from being able to give release, to give comfort. But normally both parties should receive. After all those ... empty years ... I couldn't think clearly. But normally I'd have waited for you."  
  
"Waited for me?"  
  
He laughed softly and the sound made Claire shiver with anticipation.  
  
"What am I supposed to do?"  
  
He drew her closer. "Nothing. Just shut your eyes. Concentrate on what you feel."  
  
His mouth brushed her bottom lip and wandered deeper, along the side of her neck to the hollow of her throat and further to her left breast. She felt his tongue drawing lazy circles around the nipple and as it grew harder, his mouth closed around it and gave it a cautious suckling.  
  
He smiled when she gasped, and continued, now stronger and faster, giving both breast equal attention until Claire squirmed under him with delight.  
  
"Imagine you are standing on a tower," he whispered and his breath caressed her stomach. Parting her thighs he started to lick, kiss, tease, where he had only touched before.  
  
"The sun is shining and you can see forever."  
  
Claire felt heat rise, like the sun he was talking about. He moved back to her mouth, kissed her, entered her with his tongue. She opened her lips with the same desire she parted her legs for him, and he kept teasing and caressing until she moved her hips, gently but unmistakably.  
  
She was tense, as if she expected it to hurt again, but this time he moved slowly, waited until he could feel her response. Taking in her soft moans he gave her time to adapt, time to enjoy the unfamiliar feeling until he was fully buried in her. Then he began to move in slow, long strokes, concentrating only on pleasuring her.  
  
"And you spread your arms, like wings ....  
  
Claire answered him, instinctively, unrefined, driven by need. She held on to him with both hands, brows furrowed in concentration. But he did not want her like this, not so attentive. He wanted her to stop thinking.  
  
"And feel the edge of the wall under your feet ..."  
  
His thrusts got harder, faster, and his big hand, still buried between their bodies, never ceased to caress the one spot that seemed to be the source of the heat that surged over her in waves. He intently watched her face, to find the moment when she was ready. But then her whole body spoke to him, and the way she trusted him in this moment of absolute vulnerability aroused him even more than the soft moans from her mouth.  
  
"And fly..."  
  
Claire cried out his name in utter surprise and exultation. She pushed off and flew - right into the white light, and it melted her into a warm, soft, shapeless being. From a distance she heard Sirius groan, felt a last, even more forceful thrust. Then he collapsed on her and for a while they remained like this, still connected, one body.  
  
  
  
Sirius was heavy, he was tall and he almost suffocated her. Claire nudged him carefully. When he showed no reaction, she eventually could not think of anything else but to bite into his shoulder to make him get off her. It took Sirius all the energy he had left to turn over and gather her in his arms.  
  
Still breathless and exquisitely exhausted Claire settled against his big body. She found a position that seemed natural, her head in the crook of his neck, one arm over his chest, one leg over his hips.  
  
"You were right," she smiled and inhaled the scent of his skin.. "That was better than good."  
  
"I am always right."  
  
"Of course you are, Professor White," she chuckled. "Now, can we do it again?"  
  
Laughingly she fought against him and let him pin her down to the bed.  
  
"Woman, are you trying to kill me?"  
  
She kissed his earlobe, just because it was there, just because she could do it. "No. I'd rather sleep a bit."  
  
Sirius turned his head and rubbed his cheek against her forehead. He could not remember if sex had always had that effect on him, but he suddenly felt at home, here, next to this woman, in this bed. Just now, just tonight, he tried to convince himself, he'd allow the desire to be at home to be fulfilled.  
  
"Claire?"  
  
She gave a wordless sleepy mumble.  
  
"Mind if I stay a while?"  
  
Instead of an answer she snuggled closer into his arms.  
  
Sirius held her tight, like a child would hold a comforter to ward off the loneliness and the cold of night. He remembered holding his brothers like this when they were afraid and their mother cried in the next room, oblivious to her children.  
  
"Sleep, baby," he whispered.  
  
And so she did.  
  
And after a while Sirius drifted off into a deep dreamless sleep as well.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Bits and Pieces

5. Bits and Pieces  
  
  
  
„He did what?"  
  
The Potions master's incredulous voice made Claire wince and feel for Sirius' foot under the table.  
  
They sat in Dumbledore's study to report about the evening at Malfoy's.  
  
"He cast a spell on me and …"  
  
"Imperius." Sirius stared blankly at Snape. "He cast Imperius on her."  
  
"If Sirius had not come upon us in time, he'd have …" Claire blushed and found she could not go on.  
  
"But you did find them, didn't you, Sirius?" Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked around the table to Claire. Touching her face very gently he made her raise her chin. Blue and green bruises trailed along her neck and under the robes. "Who did that?"  
  
"Prenner." She closed her eyes and relived the moment with a shudder. "I could not think. I knew I did not want to do as he ordered me to, but …"  
  
"But your mind felt like glue, sticky, thick." Snape's voice called her back. Her stared at her out of dark eyes that knew far too much.  
  
"How do you know how it feels?" she asked.  
  
"That does not belong here. The question is, why did you not cast Confundus at him as soon as you knew what he was up to? Imperius takes tremendous concentration, most wizards can't just flick their wrist and cast it. You must have had enough time to divert Prenner."  
  
Claire's face blushed even more. "I didn't recognise it," she mumbled.  
  
"You did not recognise it? What did they teach you at Beauxbatons that you would not recognise one of the Unforgivable Curses?" He turned angrily to Dumbledore, who sat at the edge of the desk, a hand on Claire's shoulder. "Really, Headmaster, this is a scandal. There should be a minimum standard of education, even …"  
  
"Severus," interrupted Dumbledore. "Claire did not attend school at Beauxbatons. That was just a rumour her parents made up to cover the truth."  
  
"The truth?"  
  
Sirius watched how the Potions master's eyes narrowed to slits and his gaze got piercingly hard. Even as students it had been almost impossible to deceive Snape for long.  
  
"She is a squib, isn't she?"  
  
Claire winced. Another wizard who knew her secret ... She remembered her days in Hogwarts when she'd been convinced that the pale black-haired Slytherin could see right through her disguise. And now he did.  
  
"I understand," he mused, his voice dangerously silky, deceiving, just to scare her even more when he suddenly yelled at her - no not at her, at Sirius.  
  
"Did they mash your brain in Azkaban, Black? Or have you spent too much time as a puppy dog? Even my first years are not as ignorant!" He looked accusingly at the Headmaster. "And you, Albus! You knew about this! You allowed this!"  
  
Dumbledore nodded solemnly and returned to his seat.  
  
"I knew about it, yes. And I am very aware of the dangers, Severus. But it is a fact now, and we have to use it to our advantage." He addressed Claire with a supporting smile. "Do you think Malfoy trusted you, my dear?"  
  
She shrugged. "I don't know. He talked a lot about the incentives of joining Voldemort, but when questioned he will just deny we ever discussed it. On the other hand they seem in desperate need of money. He mentioned Voldemort's needs, whatever they are, being very expensive. Maybe that makes them less careful."  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
"The data Arthur Weasley planted about Mr White in the Ministry's files seem sufficient. Nobody suspected me, and the charm worked well enough." He had been quiet relieved about that. "Maybe Snape can make something of the information I got. I can't. It sounded all like stupid society babble."  
  
Black passed him a scroll of parchment where he had noted the names of everybody he had recognised at the party. Snape took it out of Dumbledore's hand and started to study it immediately.  
  
"The unfortunate incident …" Dumbledore started, only to be interrupted by Sirius' angry words.  
  
"Incident? He tried to rape her, Albus."  
  
"And you smashed his nose, just like a good bodyguard is supposed to," the old wizard continued firmly. "What Prenner did, made it necessary for Malfoy to prove to Claire he is in command and worthy her financial involvement. He will invite you again, and next time the meeting won't be as harmless as yesterday." His eyes held Claire's captive. "Are you sure you can do it, dear girl? Nobody would blame you for quitting now."  
  
"Albus, you are not letting her continue!" Snape interfered furiously and threw the parchment on the desk. "Read this! Goyle was there. Simmonds. Just great! He is the new Supervisor of Azkaban. He'll probably just open the doors and let all the Death Eaters walk out. And O'Hanley. You know what O'Hanley did sixteen years ago, Claire?"  
  
Sirius stood up and stepped between the Potions master and Claire. "Shut up, Snape," he said softly but with a menacing tone. "Leave her alone!"  
  
"He was one of the Death Eaters who set fire to the squibs in Cornwall!"  
  
Claire stared at him with eyes wide open in shock. "How do you know," she asked again.  
  
"I was there," he replied curtly. "If anybody can judge the situation, it is I. And I want you out."  
  
Claire crossed her arms defiantly. "I'll continue as long as Headmaster Dumbledore trusts me."  
  
"Albus!"  
  
Dumbledore sighed and looked at Severus. "I trusted you when you told me you could resist Voldemort, and you never disappointed me, even though the odds were very long. Now I trust Claire."  
  
His verdict settled the matter for the time being. Both Severus and Sirius sat down, starring defiantly at each other, but keeping their thoughts to themselves.  
  
The Headmaster turned to Fawkes who whistled excitedly from his perch. "Fawkes wants you to see Poppy about those bruises on your neck," he translated for Claire. "Better comply, and take him with you while you are at it. We need to go over Sirius' list again, and Fawkes can be so annoying when he is freshly reborn."  
  
  
  
As soon as Claire had left the office, the beautiful phoenix in her arms, Snape lost his patience. "This is the most foolheaded, idiotic, suicidal plan I ever had to be part of!"  
  
"Stuff it, Snape!" spit Sirius and rose from his chair, ready to fight it out there and then.  
  
Dumbledore raised both arms in desperation. "Boys! Quit it, now!" He wiped his forehead in mock exhaustion. "Things were so much easier when I could take away points from your houses."  
  
"I am sorry, Albus," Sirius sighed. "It's just that I …"  
  
"I know." The old wizard sat down and unrolled the parchment. „We grabbed the dragon's tail and now we can't let go."  
  
"Only one thing." Snape rose and stepped closer to Sirius who was one of the few wizards who were taller than he, if only for an inch. Black eyes stared into dark blue ones. "What is going to happen when Peter Pettigrew ever shows up at Malfoy's little parties? Who is going to protect Claire when you go for his throat?"  
  
Sirius swallowed. He had asked himself the same question this morning. The fury, the blind hatred he felt whenever he thought about his former friend would be hard to control if he ever met him in person again.  
  
"I don't know." he answered honestly. "How do you know I' try to kill Peter?"  
  
The Potions master shrugged. "Because that's what I'd do. Of course I would not strangle him." He stepped back and sat down next to Dumbledore without letting go of Sirius's gaze, "I'd poison the miserable little rat."  
  
* * *  
  
Dumbledore stretched out his arm and Fawkes hopped off Claire's shoulder.  
  
"Is it better now?" he asked.  
  
Madam Pomfrey smiled and patted Claire's back. "Nothing a little spell could not heal."  
  
Claire thanked the nurse and said her good byes to Dumbledore.  
  
"Try not to think too much about the next invitation. Go on with your daily life," he suggested.  
  
"I'll try." Her smile did not reach her eyes.  
  
"Now run, dear girl. Your husband is waiting for you at the door."  
  
They looked after her when she hurried down the hall.  
  
Poppy sighed and stroked the phoenix on Dumbledore's arm. "She is a healer, you know," she said softly.  
  
The Headmaster looked at her. "I suspected something. Fawkes has taken a liking to her, and seeks her company when he feels ill."  
  
"Now that's unusual."  
  
"Even more so since Claire Winterstorm is a squib."  
  
Poppy's eyes widened. "Is she? She is hiding it quite well. But if she is unable to do magic, how can she heal?"  
  
"It would be wrong to assume that being a squib means one was without any talents at all. On the contrary. Most squibs possess one rather unusual gift. Pity is they never get the training to control and use it. Take Mr Filch for instance."  
  
The nurse swallowed her laughter. "Now, Albus, I know for sure that Argus Filch is not a healer."  
  
"But he is a telepath."  
  
She gasped in surprise. "Mrs Norris? Right. I never thought about it. How would he communicate with that wretched cat if not by telepathy?"  
  
He nodded. "Exactly. Now, Claire does seem unaware of her talent. Maybe you could offer to teach a little bit of what you know? Not magic, no spells, but facts about the body. We don't want her to set bones the wrong way, do we?"  
  
* * *  
  
Claire sat in her office and rubbed her eyes. She had hurried through the necessary bookkeeping all afternoon. Now she closed the huge ledgers and tapped the semi-magical quill to take a few last notes for her attorneys in London. Her father had ordered the quills for her, a clever invention that enabled her to write several letters at the same time, or just dictate what she wanted to have written. The quill itself was magical, so it could be used by a squib or Muggle. The only problem was that it would not stop writing if it was not put back safely into its case.  
  
When the letter was ready, Claire sealed and put it on a small pile of other scrolls that waited for the early morning owl flight.  
  
She still had an hour left before dinner, and would use it to do some research on Lucius Malfoy and the people she had met at his house. The more information she had, the less nervous she'd be next time.  
  
She stood up and went to the Archive trunk. Her father had kept all issues of the Daily Prophet, and they proved valuable once in a while when she needed to find out things about prospective business partners. Now she kneeled in front of the trunk and knocked at the lid. After her father's death she had had the trunk altered. Since she could not use a wand to trigger the spell, Minerva had added another charm that made it only necessary to knock at the lid.  
  
"Malfoy, Lucius and/or Narcissa," she said clearly.  
  
The trunk opened and one by one parchments appeared with Malfoy's picture on it. Claire fetched the quill and made it take notes while she gathered information. She went through most of the names she could remember from the list she had compiled with Sirius. In the end four scrolls were filled with the quill's neat writing. Satisfied with the result, she was about to close the trunk, when a sudden inspiration let her say:  
  
"Black, Sirius."  
  
A storm of parchments rose from the trunk and settled next to her on the floor in an orderly pile. She leafed through it but there were too many. Shovelling them back into the trunk, she tried again.  
  
"Black, Sirius. Not Azkaban. Not Potter. Not Escape."  
  
This time she got only five parchments and took them with her to her chair at the window. The first three mentioned his name in connection with Hogwarts Quidditch games, another one was a report about an accident involving a motorcycle - whatever a 'motorcycle' might be, thought Claire.  
  
The fifth one, brown with age, was a feature about Chief-Auror Richard Black of Gynnphyllyn in Wales. Killed by a troll who tried to rob a gold transport on its way to Gringotts, Black had been awarded the Order of the Star, second class, posthumously. He left behind his wife Cassie and four sons, Sirius, Reggie, Pollux and Cas.  
  
Claire stared at the small black and white picture of a smiling young woman with four little boys sitting in front of her on a stonewall in front of a cottage. The parchment was so old, the waving boys flickered and blurred a little, but when she looked closer, she could easily identify Sirius, at age four or five, his arms around his brothers. The youngest boys seemed to be twins or very close in age and were mere toddlers. A year after the picture was taken, their father had been killed.  
  
When the door opened and Sirius entered, she hid the parchment under her files and blushed guiltily. Of course, being married to him gave her no right to dig in his past. But then there were so many things she did not understand. For instance why he shared her bed most nights, but in other nights simply disappeared without explanation. Or what happened to him when he seemed to have left his body or retreated to a place deep inside the soul, like he had done at Malfoy's house. Or how he could touch her so easily, and seem so genuinely pleased when she touched him, and still treat her like a distant acquaintance as soon as they left the bed.  
  
Sirius smiled at her and thought, how unlike any other woman this wife of his was. She filled her days with work, and never requested he'd stay and keep her company. He was sure she didn't miss him. She had found ways to work around her handicap. It was a pleasure to watch her discover life and the joys of freedom, how she took in new faces, soaked up new impressions like a sponge, how a simple broom-ride could make her squeal with excitement. And at night they did their very own magic. It still disturbed him how much he wanted her. Of course his body had been starved for touch. And maybe holding her would keep the darkness from devouring him completely.  
  
He had considered once or twice to tell Dumbledore about his fear to go crazy. The voices, the fits of panic, they were sure signs that his mind deteriorated. But then he'd rather not weight the old wizard down with another responsibility. Dumbledore had enough people to care for as it was.  
  
Claire cleared her desk of ledgers and parchments and put the softly protesting quill back in its case. "How was your day?" she asked. She liked it when he told her about his students and what went on at Hogwarts.  
  
He snorted. "Rufus Stanley of Ravenclaw managed to transfigure today."  
  
"That's great. Isn't it?"  
  
"Into a trout."  
  
"A trout!"  
  
"Bad luck for an Animagus, if their animal is a fish. Luckily one of his classmates scooped him up and threw him into the lake. In his panic he forgot how to transfigure back, so I spent most of the afternoon in the water, talking to a scared trout."  
  
Claire chuckled. "Now guess, what's for dinner?"  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes. Then he gave her a suggestive smile. "Peagreen says to tell you that dinner will be ready in half an hour."  
  
He sat on the desk and pulled her between his legs. Drawing her head closer, he kissed her, gently at first, until he felt her tongue pushing impatiently against his. Oh, she learned fast.  
  
His thumb brushed her cheek.  
  
"Now what could we possibly do with thirty minutes?"  
  
* * *  
  
The last Quidditch match of the summer term turned out a disaster for Gryffindor. Sirius sat at the stands, his head in both hands as if he dreaded the sky to come crashing down. Harry had blown it this time, twice the snitch had been right before his nose and he had not noticed it. The last fifteen minutes of the game passed in utter silence, only interrupted by Lee Jordan's sighs and a cheer from Ravenclaw now or then. Finally the audience was allowed to leave, and not even the victorious team seemed to enjoy their success all that much.  
  
Sirius stayed at his place at the stands and stared at the now empty pitch. A sound made him turn. Lupin sat down next to him without words and they took up staring into nothingness in companionable silence.  
  
After a while Remus sighed.  
  
"That was bad."  
  
"Really bad."  
  
"Harry was distracted. I saw him look at you whenever he flew over the stands."  
  
"Come on, Remus!" Sirius' hand hit the wooden bench. „So it is my fault now Slytherin won the house cup?"  
  
"I am afraid so."  
  
They fell back into silence again.  
  
Then Sirius looked at Remus' face intently. His friend looked pale and exhausted, and it wasn't even close to the full moon. Guiltily Sirius remembered that Remus had looked miserable for some days now. But with the wedding and spying at Malfoy's he had been too busy to ask what was wrong.  
  
"You did not come to blame me, didn't you?"  
  
"Not mainly."  
  
Sirius frowned. „What is it? You were never any good at poker."  
  
"I asked her to marry me. And she said no." Remus shrugged and the gesture was so utterly without hope, Sirius could killed Serene right there.  
  
"Ah, Remmie ..."  
  
"I know. You told me before. But I don't know what to do."  
  
"Who am I to give you advice in that field?" Sirius laughed bitterly. "I am 36 now, and I haven't had a date in 14 years. The last time I thought myself in love was with Carolyn Smitherson, and she was a maid of honour at James' wedding!"  
  
Lupin's face lit up for a moment. „I remember Carolyn. Her oldest boy is a first year in Hufflepuff, did you know?"  
  
Sirius scowled. "There you have it. So if you need advice on how to win a woman's heart, ask Snape."  
  
"Severus." The DADA teacher smirked and looked across the pitch to the now vacant Slytherin stand. "Who'd have thought that he'd ever fall in love?"  
  
"You think he is? In love, I mean."  
  
Remus nodded. "He smiles a lot, lately."  
  
"Scary."  
  
"And you, my friend? What about you?"  
  
"What about me?" Sirius stood up and stretched his arms.  
  
"Are you going to fall in love with your wife?"  
  
"No."  
  
The disappointment in Lupin's face made Sirius smile.  
  
"Ah Remus, you are such a romantic soul. Claire and I have a common mission. As soon as Voldemort is defeated, we'll go our separate ways. She needs to be free, and so do I."  
  
"You were always good at poker, Black. But don't forget, I know you long enough to see through you."  
  
"What are you trying to say?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Remus …"  
  
Lupin rose and grinned at him. „Nothing, really. Wanna play ball? I bet we could still teach the kids something."  
  
A minute later they soared over the pitch, chasing a quaffle that was really a forgotten hat Sirius had bespelled. Neither of them ever noticed Harry who stood in the shadows of the stands and watched them play.  
  
* * *  
  
It was early summer now and the biannual Hogsmeade fair was on. Two weeks before the end of the school year and the dreaded finals, it was the last relaxed weekend for the students. Booths and stalls had been erected along the main street and on the green behind the train station a carnival offered rides and attractions.  
  
All students who were allowed to Hogsmeade poured into the village after Saturday lunch, and from her balcony Claire could hear music and laughter.  
  
She tried to overcome the nervousness that still crawled from her stomach to her throat whenever she had to face people. She was no longer the lonely woman in her gilded prison - she had acquired a husband, two girlfriends and more acquaintances she could have ever hoped for. And once her marriage was over she'd keep the friends hopefully, even if she'd lose Sirius.  
  
She took a deep breath, smoothed her robes and left the house to meet Sirius, Remus and Serene at the Three Broomsticks.  
  
When she arrived at the pub, all the tables and benches in the garden and alongside the road were already taken. Hundreds of wizards sat, drank Butterbeer and Frothberry lemonade, and had a good time. Claire felt lost. It was one thing to live alone and not know anybody. But standing in a crowd and not knowing anybody …  
  
With relief she saw Remus wave. He had saved a seat for her, and gave her a friendly smile, patting the bench next to him.  
  
"Good you are here, Claire. I hate it to sit alone and have people stare at me."  
  
He lied to make her feel less uneasy and she accepted it thankfully.  
  
"Where is Serene?"  
  
"Serene ... decided not to come. Sorry."  
  
His voice made clear he'd rather not discuss the matter.  
  
"And Sirius?"  
  
Remus gave her a hurt frown. "And there I was, thinking you'd be pleased to have me as company!"  
  
"But I am, really," she stuttered and realised he was joking. Exhaling slowly she smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I am just not used to people being ironic. But I'll learn."  
  
"I bet. Sirius is great at being ironic. Some would even call it cynical."  
  
"He is not." Claire shook her head unbelievingly. "He doesn't talk too much, but when he does, he seems to be sincere. Where is he anyway?"  
  
Remus gestured vaguely over the street to the carnival. "Trying to talk to Harry."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"It is hard for the boy. I don't try to excuse what he does to Sirius, but he is only fifteen. It is a difficult age."  
  
Claire wrapped a hair strand around her finger. "I don't know too much about teenagers, to be honest."  
  
"Phew, who does? We have all been there, but as soon as you grow out of puberty, you forget about the uproar of emotions and hormones. And Harry has never had any family but Sirius. He doesn't want to share. It's only natural."  
  
"He wouldn't have to share," Claire said very softly. "Sirius and I are only married by name, you know that."  
  
"To understand a concept so weird is too much to ask of a fifth year. It is even too much to ask of a grown … werewolf." His grey eyes sought hers.  
  
"It's not really weird. Sirius is …" her voice faltered and she stared at him in disbelief. "Werewolf? You are … a werewolf?"  
  
He smiled. "Snape insists I'd tell people before they find out themselves."  
  
"Before they watch you sprout whiskers at full moon," Claire giggled helplessly.  
  
"Something like that," he agreed gravely. "Whiskers. And claws. And big teeth."  
  
"Sorry." Claire looked at him seriously now. "I didn't mean to make fun of you. I've read a bit about werewolves."  
  
"No need to be afraid. I take Wolfsbane, and I am pretty much in control."  
  
"What did you mean, you don't understand the weird concept of marriage in name only?" she asked.  
  
Remus face grew concerned. "If you've read about … us ... then you know that we mate for life. So the mere thought of a marriage without love seems … wrong." He shrugged. "Sorry."  
  
"No. I … It's OK. It's not bad, really. I like Sirius. He is nice and he never yells at me or gives me the feeling he was ashamed of me."  
  
"Ashamed?" Remus snorted. „Why ever should he?"  
  
Claire took a deep breath. He had been honest, and so would she. Lupin was Sirius' best friend and confidant if he ever had one, and if she couldn't trust the DADA teacher …  
  
"I am a squib."  
  
Remus coughed on his Butterbeer and almost spit it over the whole table.  
  
Claire passed him a handkerchief. "Sorry. I shouldn't have been so blunt."  
  
"No, no." Remus tried to catch his breath. "It is really nothing to be ashamed of. But how come I remember you from school?"  
  
"You do remember me?"  
  
"Actually I do. Little girl, fair braids, infuriating Sirius whenever they met."  
  
"He was a pest," Clare reminded him of some of the pranks Sirius had played on her.  
  
"He always was when he liked somebody."  
  
She looked at him out of clear grey eyes. "Rest assured, he did not like me at all."  
  
"Look, there he comes."  
  
Remus' mouth twitched when he saw her blush at the sight of Sirius. Then his voice grew gentle.  
  
"He wasn't like this. So … silent, so angry," he said softly. "He was great fun, a prankster if I ever knew one. Before Azkaban, I mean. And he had a way with words."  
  
"Oh yes, I remember. All the girls were just crazy for him."  
  
Remus chuckled. "Yeah, he was a great flirt. But I meant something else. He wrote great stories. I always thought he'd be a writer one day, a travel writer. He'd see the most exotic places and write books to let us know how beautiful the world was. But Azkaban has taken all that from him. He did not travel. He lost … his gift for words. And he lost half of his life for a crime he did not commit."  
  
Claire stared at the tall man who walked towards them through the crowd, and blinked away the tears.  
  
Sirius sat down and forced a smile on his face when he saw Claire. "Good you are here," he said softly. "I needed to see a friendly face."  
  
"Hey, what about me?" protested Remus.  
  
"You've been lovesick and miserable all day long, Lupin, so just shut up." Sirius took a sip of Claire's lemonade and frowned. Remus went into the pub to order two more mugs of Butterbeer, and Sirius leaned against the wall and raised his face to the sun. Claire looked at him and could barely restrain from touching him. He looked unhappy, hurt, and although he did his best to appear undisturbed, she could read him well enough by now.  
  
"What's wrong?" she whispered. "Is Harry still upset?"  
  
"Upset?" Sirius gave a bitter laugh. „He hates me."  
  
Claire touched his arm. "He doesn't hate you. I am sure he does not. He is only confused and angry."  
  
He sighed. "I am at the end of my wits. I tried to explain. He won't hear. he acts as if I wasn't there."  
  
"He needs time." Remus set a mug in front of him. "Maybe after the summer …"  
  
"I missed fifteen years of his life, Remus. And now I'll miss another summer."  
  
"I don't think there is much you can do about it."  
  
Sirius sighed, emptied his mug and rose, reaching for Claire's hand. "Let's go and look at the rides. That's why we are here, isn't it? So Claire can see her first fair."  
  
The two wizards took Claire in the middle and they wandered along the many booths, through gaping customers who admired jewellery, bright garments and magical gadgets of all sorts. Remus paused at a white tent where a witch with golden coins on her headscarf sold minuscule models of the planets.  
  
"No." Sirius's voice was firm and soothing at the same time. "Moony, let it be."  
  
Lupin shrugged and looked at the tiny circulating stars unhappily. "Serene would like it."  
  
"Yes, she would. But you must get off her, do you hear me? She is like a bad potion for you. And in the end she'll kill you."  
  
"You have no idea, my friend. No idea what love is all about, do you?" Remus' voice was bitter.  
  
Claire slipped her hand in his and drew him away from the tent, pretending to be oblivious to his sorrow. Sirius gave her a thankful smile.  
  
They passed a merry-go-round where squeaking children rode wooden dragons and unicorns who shook their magically animated head at every turn. Hags sold foul smelling potions and strange herbs. Claire ate her share of Honeyduke's Special Fair Fudge, and Sirius and Remus tried their luck at a booth where you had to levitate silver balls through an obstacle course. When one of the balls erred off the course, Remus caught it instinctively, only to drop it immediately, wincing with pain. Claire took his hand, deaf to his protests. A vile blister had formed in the palm.  
  
"Real silver," Remus shrugged. "It's bad for werewolves."  
  
Claire laid her hand flat on his and smiled, and after a while the pain vanished and so did the blister. She let go of his hand and continued talking to Sirius about the fair, unaware of Remus' amazement when he looked at his now healed hand.  
  
  
  
On their way back to the Three Broomsticks they met Laurel and Snape, who's face told only too clearly that he considered this event a waste of precious time. On the other hand , he was there, and he carried a fluffy dragon with flapping wings and all - which was more than anybody had ever seen him do at a fair. Sirius and Remus did their best to not look at the dragon, and Snape dared them to mention it.  
  
Laurel beamed at Claire.  
  
"Isn't this just marvellous? I have been to a lot of Muggle fairs, but this beats everything. It is so much fun!"  
  
Claire thought that Severus didn't look like he'd had fun yet, but then she remembered how malicious and cold he appeared usually, and how … human … he looked with Laurel by his side. He even sought Laurel's hand, and the gesture seemed so intimate, Claire blushed and adverted her eyes.  
  
„Did you see the jewellery they sell over there? Isn't this horrible? It should be forbidden," said Laurel and pointed at a small stall to the right.  
  
Remus, who had strolled through the market earlier, agreed. "I thought the council banned these things long ago." To Claire he explained: "They put a charm on tiny butterflies and magic them into a crystal trinket. It looks really pretty, but to think that they are still alive and imprisoned forever, just to be sold as jewellery …"  
  
Claire shuddered. She envied anybody who could do magic, but then it could be abused in so many ways, not just by the Unforgivable Curse, but by small things like this. While Laurel urged Remus to sample the sweets she'd bought and Sirius wandered around the stands, Claire gathered all her courage and stepped closer to Snape. Clearing her throat nervously, she kept her eyes steady on the fluffy dragon.  
  
"I need to ask you something … Severus."  
  
He bowed his head. "As long as you don't want me to shoot you a dragon, too."  
  
Her mouth twitched but she remained serious. "Remus said … you expected him to tell others about being a werewolf."  
  
"Or I'd do it. Yes."  
  
"But isn't this a very private thing? If he'd sooner not have people know?"  
  
Snape let his gaze wander over the crowd to Lupin who was laughing with Laurel and Sirius. "Remus kept running away. But you can't outrun your inner demon, werewolf or not. You need to face it." Claire noted how he gripped the toy dragon so hard, his knuckles paled. "And when you do so, you might find that it is not as horrible as you imagined it."  
  
"And … do you expect me to tell everybody as well?"  
  
He sighed. "No. Being a squib is nothing to be ashamed of, whatever your parents made you believe. But right now it would only endanger you if anybody but us knew."  
  
She almost cried with relief. "Thank you."  
  
Laurel laughed right behind her. „You thank him? Oh Severus, don't say you gave my dragon away!"  
  
***  
  
The next morning when Sirius woke up, he knew something was wrong. The light of dawn was still grey and just seeped through the branches of the tree in front of the windows of Claire's bedroom. It took him a minute to figure out what disturbed him so. The room was silent. Very silent. There should at least be ... Claire's breath ... He reached for her, but his hand touched nothing but the cool sheets.  
  
Now really concerned he got up and put on his pants. He checked the adjoining bathroom, even his own bedroom, but she was gone.  
  
When he opened the door to the hallway he froze.  
  
A dozen or so house-elves stood in front of the door, their ears flapping as threateningly as elves managed to.  
  
"What did I do now?" Sirius sighed.  
  
They barred the stairway and their stance made clear he'd not pass that easily. And if he hurt them accidentally, Claire would be upset ...  
  
"What?" he demanded.  
  
The elves exchanged nervous glances, then Coco stepped forward. She stared up at him, the green eyes huge and on fire. "What is you been doing to Miss Claire?"  
  
"Uh?" Sirius shook his head and for a moment he was not sure if this wasn't just a very strange dream. "I didn't do anything."  
  
"But she is crying, Miss Claire's Sirius! Very much!"  
  
Sirius hunched on his heels to be face to face with the elf. "She is crying?"  
  
"Very much. She never is much crying, until today!"  
  
"I understand. Listen, I did not do anything to her," Sirius tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. "Where is she?"  
  
Coco shrugged and blew her nose in a very pretty handkerchief that was almost as big as her tea towel-dress. "We does not know. She left."  
  
* * * 


	6. Gazing at the Stars

6. GAZING AT THE STARS  
  
Claire muttered the few really bad words she knew and freed her ankle from the brambles again. The sneaking plants seemed to make fun of her, catching her feet and making her trip every second step. It was not dark anymore, but even in the grey light of dawn she was completely lost in the forest. By day the way was easy to find, but when she ran from the house it had been night. Though the moon was almost full, she had been blinded by angry tears. So she had not actually lost the way but rather never found it in the beginning. All she had done in the last hour - besides tripping and sobbing - was trying to find something that resembled a path that would take her to Hogwarts or at least back into Hogsmeade.  
  
Eventually she sat down on a fallen trunk in a clearing and had a good look at the twisted ankle. It had not been a good idea to run away in slippers and night-shirt. Right now she'd have given half of the Winterstorm fortune for a pair of boots and a cloak. Or a map …  
  
A noise in the underbrush startled her. There were things in the Forbidden Forrest, creatures and animals, and she was not sure how dangerous they really were. After all her parents had told her the world was awfully dangerous and it had turned out rather friendly. On the other hand, even Sirius had warned her to not walk alone through the forest …  
  
Sirius. She blinked. She would not start weeping again like a lost child. She was a grown woman, she was respected in the business world, her store managers feared her scrutiny and intelligence. So why should she cry over something as stupid as this damned piece of jewellery she had found under her pillow?  
  
  
  
She remembered waking up in the middle of the night, feeling secure and warm in Sirius' arms. She remembered the steady rhythm of his hearbeat. And how her hand, burried under the pillow, had suddenly found something cold, something that felt like a thin chain. Carefully she slipped out of Sirius' embrace and angled the thing from under the pillow to study it by the moonlight that fell through the high window. Her heart sunk when she saw that it was indeed a thin silver chain, beautifully fashioned with a crystal trinket as small as her thumb nail. He had done it again.  
  
Tears welled up and she clenched her fingers around the chain. Gazing at Sirius sleeping, she tried to calm down. He had left things under her pillow all week long. A book. A small box with chocolate truffles. Whenever they shared a bed she found something the next morning, and every time it made her more miserable. Payment. He payed her. As faithfully as her best business partners. What she had intented to be a gift, was obviously worth something. A soft sob escaped, leaving her confused and again embarrassed about how little she knew about relationships.  
  
Her mother had never mentioned her father giving her gifts whenever they did … that. Claire blushed. She could not belive her parents had ever behaved like Sirius and she did almost every other night. And still, they had to, at least once, or she would not exist. But she was almost sure her father had never paid her mother for that.  
  
Silently she searched for her slippers and left the bedroom. Her office was calm and by the moonlight she saw the archive trunk in the corner. Kneeling in front of it, she softly knocked at the lid. The trunk opened.  
  
Claire cleared her throat. Information. She needed information. In the morning she'd go and ask Laurel for advice. There was no way she'd talk to Sirius about it, the humiliation would probably kill her. And the subject wasn't really something she'd want Minerva to lecture her about. But Laurel was almost her age, and she was happily married, and if payment amongst husband and wife was common, she'd know.  
  
But until then, the trunk would do.  
  
"Sex. Payment. Tariff. Conditions."  
  
The trunk spit out a dozen papers, and what she read was enough to let Claire sneak out of the house in only her slippers and night-shirt and run towards Hogwarts.  
  
  
  
And now she was lost, and cold and scared. She pushed the memory to the back of her mind. The most important thing was to get out of the forest, and then she'd deal with her husband.  
  
The noise in the bushes made her heart beat faster. Something broke through the bushes, and she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to not cry out in fear.  
  
The creature was half horse, light brown and graceful, half man, with curly brown hair and beard. Claire had seen pictures of centaurs but had thought them extinct. The stories she'd read about them were not all friendly. Supposedly they were arrogant, rather aggressive when annoyed and very protective of their territory. But this centaur had warm eyes, almost golden, and did not look as if he'd … whatever it was centaurs did to their enemies.  
  
"Good morning," he said in a low soulful voice, as if he just met her on the main street in Hogwarts.  
  
"Good morning." Claire replied politely. She was still not sure how to behave. Would he want to be addressed like a person, or sooner petted and groomed?  
  
The centaur stepped closer and crossed this arms over his chest. "What are you looking for?"  
  
"Nothing. I am …" She sighed. No use to pretend to just have taken a walk. "No, indeed, I am looking for the way out of the forest."  
  
The centaur flung back his head and stared at the sky beyond the treetops. "The stars will tell us the way."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" Claire remembered that centaurs were very fond of astrology. But the last thing she needed now was some obscure stargazing.  
  
"The northern star." He pointed out a significant star low on the western firmament. "It is always there, and will tell you where you are and where you want to go."  
  
"Oh. I'll remember that." She looked up at the star and tried to memorise its position. "But right now, could you show me the way out?"  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "What is your name, woman? Why would anybody want to enter the Forbidden Forrest without an idea where to go?"  
  
"I am Claire Winterstorm." She blushed a little, annoyed that he obviously thought she was out of her mind or just plain stupid.  
  
"My name is Dareius," the centaur bowed his head, and again Claire fought the urge to pat it. "Your ankle is hurt."  
  
"It is only twisted." She looked down at her feet. The hem of her night- shirt was muddy and so were her legs since she had accidentally stepped into a mud puddle.  
  
"So you cried not because you are injured," Dareius observed.  
  
"How do you know I …"  
  
"The stars told me." Then he smirked and his eyes sparkled. "No, I heard you weep for quite a while. I have been following you since you stumbled over that rock an hour ago."  
  
Claire brushed wet hair strands out of her face. "You could have helped me before."  
  
The centaur shrugged, a gesture that looked more than strange since he had two sets of shoulders, one on the animal part and one on the human part of his body. "I am offering my help now. Why did you cry?"  
  
She sighed. "I was … angry."  
  
"Aha." He stared unblinkingly at her.  
  
"I am not really good at arguments, and I needed to get away before it started."  
  
"Aha."  
  
"Is that all you are going to say?"  
  
"If you don't tell me what really bothers you? You are running away. From ...?"  
  
"Sirius." It was out before she could bite her tongue. It wasn't really Dareius' business, but he would not know him anyway …  
  
"You can't run away from Sirius. He is like the Northern Star. He will always be there."  
  
Claire looked at him suspiciously. Was this centaur-talk or was he making sense?  
  
"No, he'll leave as soon as …"  
  
"He can not leave the orbit he is bound to."  
  
"I am sorry but we seem to talk of two different people." She shook her head and shivered involuntarily from the cold.  
  
"He is most peculiar, our Sirius," said Dareius, not impressed by her protests. His golden eyes held her captive and his low voice seemed to speak right inside her mind now. "Did you know he is really two?"  
  
"Two?" She sighed and gave in. Whatever he talked of, sooner or later he had to be done and maybe then he'd be so kind and show her the way out of the forest.  
  
"Weakness and strength. They need each other, and together they are Sirius. The weakness is always overlooked, we only see the brilliant light of strength. But take away the weakness and the light will extinguish."  
  
Claire studied his face. He seemed to be utterly serious and meaningful "The Sirius I am talking about, is strength only," she remarked softly.  
  
"So this is what you are running away from? His strength?"  
  
"I don't know. No. I run away from … the truth."  
  
"And you want to be alone, without him?"  
  
She hugged her knees and let her head sink in despair. "No," she whispered. "I don't want to be alone. I want him to come for me. I want him to come and rescue me. Pathetic, isn't it?"  
  
"Sometimes we all want to be rescued." Dareius' gaze was warm and full of empathy.  
  
"But he won't come. He probably has not even noticed I am gone."  
  
"He is Sirius. He will come, he is a reliable one."  
  
She shook her head.  
  
The centaur nudged her softly with his thigh. When she followed his gaze, she saw a great black dog sitting under the trees, watching her out of dark eyes.  
  
"I think he is already here."  
  
Dareius gave a sound that was a soft bray and a laughter at the same time and smiled at her. "It was a pleasure to discuss the stars with you, Claire Winterstorm." Then he took off, gracefully and almost soundless, and disappeared in the forest.  
  
Claire swallowed. The dog did not move. She remembered Sirius in his transformed appearance, but did not know whether he would understand her while he was a dog.  
  
He took the decision out of her hands and changed back into a wizard in front of her eyes. But still he kept the distance, forced her to make the first step.  
  
"Sirius." Suddenly her brain had turned into mush, and all she could think of was his name.  
  
"It is six in the morning, Claire." Sirius' eyes bore into hers and the cold anger she saw in them made her tremble. "What are you doing here, all alone and without shoes."  
  
"I lost the way," she said softly.  
  
"The next time you decide to run away from me, you should do so by day."  
  
"I did not ... run away." Of course she had, she thought. Of course she had tried to bring as much distance between her and this man as possible.  
  
"Your house-elves accused me of making you cry." Sirius' voice was strained and betrayed only half of the fear that had filled his heart till he had taken up her trace in the forest.  
  
"I don't want to talk about it now."  
  
"Well, you'll have to." He held her wrist, careful not to hurt her but making it very clear he'd not let her get away without an answer. "You run from your own house, in the middle of the night, so distressed Coco accused me of abusing you …"  
  
Claire gasped. "She did not!"  
  
"Not with words, but with her eyes. You don't talk to me. You don't give me any opportunity to explain if there is anything to explain, or to do something you think I ought to do. And I shall not have that. Not again."  
  
She held her head up high and held out her hand, palm open, presenting the thin silver chain.  
  
"This."  
  
He frowned and stared at the piece of jewellery. "But I freed the butterfly. I thought you'd like that."  
  
Claire blushed. She had been so angry and hurt, she had not even looked close enough at the offending trinket to notice that it was one of the butterfly prisons they had seen at the fair. Somehow Sirius had managed to free the tiny prisoner without damaging the crystal.  
  
She cleared her throat.  
  
"I am not a whore, Sirius!"  
  
His eyes widened and he stepped back. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I may not know very much about magic or the world outside Hogsmeade, but I know one thing. You pay me for sex, that makes me a whore."  
  
"I never paid …" He stared at her in disbelieve. "You are talking about the trinket?"  
  
Claire blinked desperately to keep herself from crying. She still held the chain in her hand, had clenched her fingers so hard around it, the crystal cut into her palm.  
  
Sirius rubbed his forehead in the desperate attempt to find the right words.  
  
"It was a gift. Supposed to show you how much I valued what you give me."  
  
"What I give you?" Her voice trembled.  
  
He looked right through her, into a world only he could see, somewhere beyond the trees.  
  
"The closeness. Physical contact. And … at least I thought so until this morning … trust."  
  
Claire felt the blood rush up her face.  
  
"I know quite well that I am the part that gains most in this relationship," he continued. "You tolerate my touch and I am thankful about that. Merlin knows, I would want it to be different, but I am not in a position to choose. I need you, Claire."  
  
"But I … It is not that I just tolerate it when you … when we …"  
  
"When we fuck?"  
  
She winced. But then she had to admit that people who were not in love with each other couldn't possibly make love, could they? So he was probably right, and they fucked.  
  
"Yes. I … enjoy it."  
  
"You don't need to lie for my sake, Claire. You have never ever made a move to seduce me. It is always I who instigates it but for the very first time. I am sorry if I disappointed you, but I am not so noble to give you up. I wish I was, but I am not. All I learned in Azkaban was how to survive, and that is what I am going to do."  
  
Claire cleared her throat. "I never made a move, "she said softly. "That is true."  
  
"But you never denied me what I craved. And I can not thank you enough for that."  
  
She had never seen him humble, and was not sure she wanted to see him now. Her anger had evaporated. A sweet ache filled her heart. Could it be that he was so stupid? Could it be that Serene was right and all wizards were blind and needed to be pushed into the right direction? But how was she supposed to tell him? Again her face turned red. She dared not to look at him, so she studied his muddy boots with much more interest than they deserved.  
  
"I just can't, Sirius."  
  
He frowned. "You can't … what?"  
  
"I don't have the words to … to ask you … to tell you … Oh Morgaine, help me!" She shook her head. "All I could do was waiting until you wanted … what I had wanted all along."  
  
Sirius cupped her chin and made her look at him. "You didn't know how to tell me you wanted to have sex with me?"  
  
She winced and closed her eyes in embarrassment.  
  
"But you wanted me?"  
  
"I wanted you. I still … I still want you."  
  
The tall wizard raked both hands through his dark hair. "Good. Good. We'll find a solution, I am sure." His eyes lit up and he took the chain with the crystal trinket from her hand. "Now that you know it is not payment but a gift, would you wear this?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Keep it inside you robes. But if you … need to tell me anything ... wear it so I can see it."  
  
"A secret code?" She looked up at him with so much relief, he felt his throat tighten.  
  
"A secret code. Nobody will know but the two of us."  
  
"Agreed. But what will your sign be?"  
  
Now he grinned and lifted her up until she was at kissing level. Whispering into her ear, he told her and laughed when she blushed even more.  
  
Claire relished the kiss, answered it with all the passion born from relief and happiness. But when he didn't show any intention of setting her down, she beat with both fists against his chest until he complied.  
  
Sitting her on the trunk, Sirius kneeled down and took a closer look at her ruined slippers and scratched shins. "I guess I'll have to carry you home."  
  
"You are my bodyguard. Isn't that what bodyguards do?" she smirked. "Ygor carried me around a lot."  
  
"Ygor was a troll. And you were a princess back then."  
  
She pouted in mock annoyance. "And now I am no princess anymore?"  
  
"Now you are Ms Black, who only gets carried by her husband in cases of emergency. Or when her shoes are completely ruined and he can't let her walk barefoot through the thorns and thistles."  
  
Claire smiled at him indulgently and touched his thick dark hair with her fingertips. "Sirius, I really wish …"  
  
"Ok, I'll carry you. I'll even call you Princess, if that is what you wish," he teased her.  
  
"No. I wish we could have what Laurel and Severus have."  
  
His smile fell and he stood up slowly. Hovering over her, he avoided her eyes and stared into the trees where Dareius had disappeared.  
  
"What do they have?"  
  
Claire swallowed. Suddenly she realised how thin the ice was she was dancing on. "I know this is just a marriage in name. And I agreed with it, I didn't want it any other way. Only now … when I see them … they look so happy. I never knew that marriage could be like that. And so I sometimes wish … wish we could have the same." She raised both hands to silence him. "Only for the time being. Not forever."  
  
"Laurel and Snape are not married." Sirius' voice was strained with the desperate effort to keep his emotions under control. She did not know what she was talking about. She knew nothing about love, how defenceless it left you, how utter vulnerable. And she did not know how much he craved it, like an addict, with an almost physical hunger, and how he denied it to himself. Because he knew. Merlin, he knew ...  
  
"They are not?"  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Still, they are so happy."  
  
"They both suffered a lot before they got where they are today." Sirius thought about Laurel's desperate flight to London, about the Potions master's dead eyes when he watched her leave. "But you are right, they have something special. Something precious."  
  
"They care about each other. And I … care about you."  
  
"Don't fall in love with me, Claire. Please don't fall in love with me," he whispered so softly she was not even sure if she had heard him right.  
  
"It would not oblige you to anything, Sirius. Can't I just be in love with you until this marriage is over?"  
  
"You can not turn love on and off like your quills, baby. So promise me you'll not fall in love with me."  
  
She nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder and sighed when her cheek touched his bare skin. "I'll try," she murmured. "But I don't understand why you mind so much."  
  
Sirius' face turned into a hard mask, his blue eyes suddenly empty and without any emotion. "Because everybody who loves me, dies on me," he whispered.  
  
"Sirius …"  
  
"No. It is true. Jamie, Lilly, my brothers, Mom. Their death is on my hands." His voice shook. "Lets go home. Lets go home and cherish what we have."  
  
"What do we have?"  
  
She sounded lost, hurt, and Sirius had to remind himself that it was better she ached a little now than a lot later. When he failed her ...  
  
"Friendship. That's what we have. Passion. Trust. A mission." He lifted her up again, effortlessly and swift. "That's more than most people ever have, trust me."  
  
* * *  
  
"Sirius?" she asked before she fell asleep that evening.  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Do you know this centaur? Dareius?"  
  
"I don't think so. I have met a few centaurs, but not that one."  
  
"But he seems to know you."  
  
"What makes you think so?"  
  
"He said you would never leave your way, and that there was one bright strong half of you and on …"  
  
Sirius chuckled softly and raked his hand through her hair.  
  
"He is a centaur, Claire!"  
  
"So?"  
  
"He was talking about my namesake. Sirius. The Dog Star."  
  
"The Dog Star." She thought about it. "Of course. It is a double star, isn't it?"  
  
"Mmh, as far as I know only the bright one is visible. But there is a small counterpart that keeps the whole thing moving."  
  
"The strong half that can't exist without the weak part."  
  
"Or something like that, yeah."  
  
She remembered Dareius' voice in her head, so intensely. She had been so sure he was talking about the wizard, not the star.  
  
"So Sirius is your namesake?"  
  
He sighed. "My mother … she was a … She was a bit like Serene. Did divinations and horoscopes and stuff. She loved the stars, and so she named her children after them."  
  
"Her … children?" He had never spoken about his brothers before and she could hardly tell him that she already knew of them from that newspaper clip about his father.  
  
"My brothers. She called us Sirius, Regulus, Castor and Pollux." He turned on his back and drew her closer. "Reg would beat up anybody who dared to call him Regulus. And Castor was Cas, ever since I can remember. Only Pollux and I kept the name."  
  
"Castor and Pollux. Are they twins?"  
  
His hand ceased to stroke her hair. "They … Pollux is dead. He got killed a year before I was convicted to Azkaban. The Nottingham raid."  
  
Claire remembered the horrible event. Death Eaters had raided a bar in Nottingham, where wizards and muggles mingled. The blood toll had reached twenty-five.  
  
"He had a Muggle girlfriend. They both died that day."  
  
Claire did not know what to say.  
  
"I am sorry."  
  
It came out awkwardly and she could not find the right words to convey her sadness that the little boy from the picture was dead.  
  
"Reggie died a month later. But Cas is still alive." He sounded very distant as if he talked about strangers.  
  
"He must have been happy when you escaped from Azkaban."  
  
"I doubt that." Sirius exhaled slowly. "He was one of the Aurors who arrested me. He never had any doubt I was guilty. He told me so."  
  
* * * 


	7. Moments in Time

7. MOMENTS IN TIME  
  
The dreaded letter arrived early in the morning by express owl on the day the students were to leave for the summer.  
  
Sirius had not spoken a word through breakfast and stared into his teacup as if he could spot a solution for the muddle with Harry. Claire wished she could offer advice, but although she understood why Harry acted the way he did, she had no idea how to change his mind.  
  
Hesitantly she pushed the scroll towards Sirius. "He says next Saturday."  
  
"Hmm?" Sirius gave a start.  
  
"Malfoy suggests a meeting in London next Saturday."  
  
"In London?"  
  
He took the parchment and studied it. Not even the most suspicious Auror would be able to trip Malfoy up with this invitation to tea at Fortescue's in Diagon Alley.  
  
"I'll inform Dumbledore."  
  
She nodded. „And I'll go shopping. You'll need new robes, since I ruined the pink number you wore last time."  
  
He winced. "Can't I just pick one myself?"  
  
"Serene knows best, believe me." She gave him a teasing smile. "But I'll try to prevent the worst."  
  
"If the pink thing I had to wear was not the worst ..." Sirius shuddered. "But I am not going to let these ridiculous boots anywhere near me ever again."  
  
Claire gathered the mail and turned to leave the breakfast room. Standing in the door, she changed her mind and went back to the table. Before shyness and awkwardness would get the better of her, she gave Sirius a quick hug and a kiss on the forehead.  
  
"Don't be so sad about Harry," she whispered. "Show him that you'll be there, whatever he does."  
  
Then she ran out of the room in a flourish of skirts, the parchments gathered to her breast.  
  
* * *  
  
Later that afternoon Claire, Laurel and Serene walked down the main street of Hogsmeade, chattering merrily, the two Professors exhilarated about the start of the summer holidays.  
  
"I really want to visit my family," Laurel mused and gave a sigh, when they came out of Honeydukes without having to fight their way through a crowd of students craving sweets. "Severus is not happy with the idea, and I am not sure how he'll get along with my folks, but I miss them a lot. And I want him to get a taste of muggle life, just so he can appreciate, what I gave up."  
  
Serene chuckled. "Microwave ovens."  
  
"The Internet."  
  
"Soap operas."  
  
"Cuba libre."  
  
Laurel smirked. "Oh, you can get that at the Three Broomsticks if you ask Rosmerta very nicely."  
  
"Still, you are right. I love it here, don't get me wrong, but there are things I really miss." Serene sighed. "Fashion magazines. And men in jeans and t-shirts."  
  
Claire gazed at them and shook her head. "I have no idea what you are talking about. What is a microwave? And jeans?"  
  
"Jeans are … tight pants," Serene tried to explain. "The thing is, Muggles don't wear robes to cover the pants."  
  
She and Laurel laughed when Claire blushed incredulously.  
  
"Honestly! When you go to London, ask Sirius to take you to wander a bit outside. You'll see it yourself."  
  
" I saw Sirius wear jeans and a leather jacket once, and he is just gorgeous!" Laurel enthused. "So you don't even need to go to London, just make him dress up for you at your house. But may I suggest, you do it in your bedroom ..."  
  
They had arrived at Gladrags, and Laurel rolled her eyes at the sight of the great store. "Do we have to go there? Do I have to go with you? Can't I just wait at the pub?"  
  
Serene grabbed her sleeve mercilessly and drew her through the door. "You come with us! And you won't get out without a new robe, and if I have to hex it onto you myself."  
  
A wizard hurried towards them, face pale, hands trembling. "Miss Kennedy! You give us the honour … again …"  
  
"They hate me," Serene whispered into Claire's ear. "Most of their stuff is so old-fashioned, and I am afraid I told them one time too often."  
  
"You really should open a store yourself, Serene," suggested Claire seriously. "Your taste in fashion is implacable."  
  
"While her taste in men is just sad." Laurel stood next to a rack with plain blue robes.  
  
Serene's face clouded and her eyes turned a very angry green. It was as if she'd caught fire, thought Claire, once more envious about Serene's gorgeous red hair.  
  
"Stop teasing her, Laurel. If she loves not Remus but somebody else, she can't possibly lie to him, can't she?"  
  
Serene turned away from her and pretended to study the fabric of a wizard's robe with a fluffy kneazle collar. "I don't love anybody else," she said very softly.  
  
Claire looked at Laurel for advice, but her friend only shook her head wordlessly. Whatever Serene's problem was, it was apparently not another wizard, but something about Remus, that made her turn him down when he asked her to marry him.  
  
"Now, what do you suggest for Sirius this time," she asked with forced cheerfulness. She really liked Serene and she liked Remus, who was certainly the kindest wizard she knew, and if these two were not made for each other, then she did not know anything about love. Which she didn't, she reminded herself.  
  
"He hated the pink one, so please let it be a blue or green robe this time."  
  
Serene nodded and began to pick robes off the racks and discuss their details and fabric with Claire, while Laurel, obviously bored, took mercy on the clerk and let him show her gloves of thin dragon scale skin. Maybe she could work out a deal with Severus. One week of slave labour in that dungeon lab of his in exchange for a week with her family … It was not really fair, since she loved to help him in the lab, but maybe she could make it sound like she hated it. But then it was almost impossible to deceive Severus, when he did not want to be deceived. She sighed, bought a black pair of gloves and turned to Serene and Claire who had shortened the list to three outfits of tearjerking ugliness.  
  
"I know it insults the eye and makes you want to throw up …" Serene said.  
  
Claire giggled. "I did! I mean, I did throw up on the other robe. The pink one."  
  
When she saw the two witches stare at her, she blushed. "Long story, really." She touched the sleeve of the robe. "It feels odd."  
  
"They make it out of silk dyed with a certain kind of funghi. It gleams in the dark."  
  
Laurel laughed amusedly, and Serene frowned. "I never said it was pretty or I'd want anybody I love to wear it. But it is highly fashionable and indecently expensive, and everyone will expect the husband of Britain's richest witch to wear something like this."  
  
"Now how about this very exclusive creation that just arrived from our branch in Paris," the clerk dared to interfere and presented a black and white striped robe with scarlet fastening. "It is the height of fashion, I assure you, Miss Kennedy."  
  
This evening he'd tell his girlfriend at dinner about his customer from hell, who tore apart all of his robes verbally and today even ran out of the store when he showed her a robe. But now all he could do was stand and stare at the open door where Serene had just disappeared, hand clamped over her mouth.  
  
Laurel and Claire were as thunderstruck as he was. Laurel tried to smile apologetically, grabbed Claire's hand, and ran after Serene.  
  
They found her on the green, hugging her shoulders and rocking gently like a scared child. Laurel kneeled next to her, touched her shoulder very carefully and talked as soothingly and softly as she could.  
  
Serene just whimpered. Claire looked around, but there was nobody who'd see them. She hunched on her heels and placed both hands gently on Serene's temples. Closing her eyes she concentrated and almost immediately the whimpers subsided and Serene's breathing rate became steadier. Laurel watched in awe.  
  
"How did you do this?" she asked softly.  
  
"Does she get migraines often?" Claire asked her.  
  
Laurel shook her head. "I am afraid this is not a migraine. Serene is a clairvoyant. She can see … events."  
  
"See events? You mean she can see the future?" Claire sounded doubtfully. She did not believe in divinations, but she knew it was a huge industry in the Muggle world, and Winterstorm actually had just introduced a very nice set of Tarot cards for the Muggle market.  
  
"She can see the future, or at least one of many possible futures." Laurel sighed. "It is very difficult. I did not believe it either but then … Well, I changed my mind."  
  
In short words she told Claire about Serene's vision of Severus killing Dumbledore, and how it had come to pass without really happening. She left out that Serene had almost killed her in her attempts to change the future.  
  
Serene looked at her with eyes that were almost black. "What I saw then, happened."  
  
"No, it did not. Severus did not kill the Headmaster."  
  
"But he killed somebody who looked like Dumbledore!"  
  
"No." Laurel shook her head. "You changed the future, Serene. I thought about it a lot when Severus was so ill. You actually succeeded, but not by trying to alter the setting. Just by telling Severus, you made him consider how he'd act if your vision ever became reality. So when it happened he was prepared."  
  
Serene gave her a thankful if shaky smile. "I never saw it like that. Thank you. It is horrible to feel so powerless."  
  
"What could you have possibly seen, Serene?" asked Claire. "That robe was awful, I give you that, but ..."  
  
"I saw Sirius in that very robe." Serene did not meet her eyes. "I had this vision before, several times actually, since he arrived at Hogwarts. But I thought I had flashbacks."  
  
"Flashbacks?" Laurel searched in her bag for the chocolate she had bought at Honeydukes and stuffed a truffle into Serene's mouth.  
  
Chewing Serene explained: "Sometimes I can see a person's past, or rather glimpses of it. I thought it had to be a flashback because …" She swallowed and finally looked at Claire, her eyes filled with pity. "I saw him in Azkaban, in that very robe. But since this is a new model, I have seen the future."  
  
* * *  
  
Deeply worried Claire came home and dropped the robes she had bought onto the bed. Her first impulse had been to shred or burn the striped robe that had triggered Serene's vision, but Laurel had held her back.  
  
"Believe me, if Serene sees him in that robe, he'll wear it. Whether you destroy this one or not." So she had bought it, but only to hide it in the back of her wardrobe. If she had anything to say about it, Sirius would never get near that thing.  
  
Almost guiltily she rose from the floor in front of the wardrobe when Sirius entered the bedroom.  
  
"Let me see what you got me," he asked, his face clouded by pretend worry.  
  
"Ehm, Serene said that turquoise will bring out your eyes."  
  
He snorted. "The content of my stomach, rather."  
  
Claire held the robe next to his face. "She is right," she judged. "Of course the robe is awful with all the frills and ribbons, but if it was plain …"  
  
"Can't I just be dressed normally and act really dumb?" Sirius sighed.  
  
"I am afraid not." Claire thought about something else. "We are supposed to meet Malfoy after lunch, aren't we?"  
  
"Right." He shook his head incredulously when he saw the yellow robe with its tiny bells.  
  
"Would you mind if we went earlier and I had a look at London?"  
  
"A look at London?"  
  
"I have never been there and I thought, I could ..."  
  
"Great idea. But we'll have to get you some Muggle clothes."  
  
Claire nodded eagerly. "I can borrow something from Laurel."  
  
"There are so many things I want to show you," Sirius enthused. "I used to live there for almost a year after graduation. Before …"  
  
She knew what he wanted to say. Before the Potters were killed.  
  
"So let's go there real early, and you can take me around before we face Lucius Malfoy again," she said quickly to take his mind off the sad memory.  
  
"Oh, Sirius, by the way," she said without looking at him while she stored away the robes. "Do you by any chance own jeans and a T-shirt?"  
  
"Sure. Why?"  
  
"Only thinking …" She smiled to herself. "Only thinking."  
  
* * *  
  
Claire cleared her throat and tried to stop staring at Sirius who walked next to her in jeans and a black leather jacket, his long black hair tied back into a ponytail. Laurel had been right about London and about Muggle clothes. They were indecently tight, and oh yes, Sirius did look gorgeous ...  
  
He turned and gave her a teasing smile that made her blush violently. "I know what you are doing, Baby."  
  
"I was only looking," she mumbled, embarrassed he had caught her staring at his butt.  
  
Sirius' eyes twinkled. "You may not only look but touch, if you want," he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.  
  
She hid her face in his jacket. "I am sorry. It is just that I am not used to this kind of dress."  
  
The thin flowered dress she had borrowed from Laurel barely covered her knees. The soft summer breeze stroked the skin on her bare arms and legs. It felt ... good ... sensual.  
  
"Are you sure this is not supposed to be an under-garment?" she asked Sirius and gingerly touched the spot where his T-shirt bared his arm.  
  
"I am positive. They all wear this stuff, just look around us." He let his hand wander to the ribbon that tied her tight braid. "But this dress demands open hair, believe me, I am an expert in this."  
  
He pulled at the ribbon and undid her braid. "Now, that's much better."  
  
Awkwardly Claire touched her open hair. It had to do, and of course Sirius was right, many Muggle women wore their hair like this.  
  
"Now what?" she asked.  
  
Sirius took her for a stroll through the city and took great pleasure in the wonderment he could see in her eyes gazing at shop windows, traffic lights and telephone booths. The only thing she seemed to be genuinely afraid of were the cars.  
  
"They are not allowed on the side-walk," Sirius explained. "And if you want to cross the street, just wait for the green light."  
  
Claire let out a trembling sigh. "Ygor got killed by one of these auto- thingies."  
  
"Ygor? Your ... friend?"  
  
She knew that he had swallowed the word 'slave' and gave him a sad smile. "I ran away from home, when Father told me I was not allowed to return to Hogwarts. Ygor tried to talk me out of it, said it was much too dangerous. But I was so determined. We did not get very far though."  
  
Sirius saw the tears well up in her eyes. Death. He knew the never-mending wound it tore only too well. Again he was lost for words, like so many times when he needed them lately. He had not been able to explain to Harry why he had married, he had not been able to help Remus, and now he could not think of anything to say that would console his wife. It was as if the dark coldness that attacked him so often now, sucked the words out of his mind.  
  
He gently touched Claire's cheek and let her cry for a moment.  
  
She blew her nose and took a deep breath. "It was dark and so I decided to walk under the street-lamps. Then the car came and hit Ygor. It did not even stop. And he died there."  
  
"He protected you." Sirius looked at her with curious intensity.  
  
"Yes. He died for me. But I wanted him to live for me."  
  
  
  
Wordlessly they turned away from the busy street and wandered through small side alleys until they reached an open square where buskers showed their talent. Sirius bought two chocolate croissants from a vendor and they joined the audience at the stairs.  
  
Claire watched with joy how the Muggles laughed, talked, read books or simply listened to the musicians. Everybody seemed to have a good time.  
  
"It is Saturday, so it is their day off," explained Sirius. "Don't get the wrong idea about their life. They have to work just like any wizard."  
  
He let a piece of croissant tangle in front of her mouth and pulled it away quickly when Claire tried to take a bite.  
  
"I really don't know," he mused. "After all it would be a gift, and you told me explicitly that you are not fond of gifts."  
  
She blushed. "Just not of ... Well, you know." He was only teasing, but it had been hard enough to talk about it the first time in the forest and she wanted nothing less than go through the same embarrassment again. "This does not count. It is food. You owe me breakfast anyway for buying you that great outfit you are going to wear this afternoon."  
  
"Right. I owe you." He stuffed the croissant into her mouth to silence her, and let his hand wander to the back of her neck where he played with the thin silver chain she wore. Then he bowed closer and whispered into her ear. "One day you'll come to me, and you won't need that trinket to show me what you want. On that day I'll grant you a wish. Anything you want. But until then, no more gifts."  
  
A photographer made them both jump when his flash suddenly went off in front of them. Claire shrieked. Sirius held her hand to keep her from jumping up.  
  
The Muggle photographer apologised for startling them. "Would you like your picture taken?" he asked. "It is Polaroid and only takes a minute. And I'll make you a special price since I almost blinded you."  
  
Sirius searched for spare Muggle change in the pockets of his leather jacket and passed it to the man, who pointed the small black box at them and said "Cheese". It was ridiculous enough to make Claire smile. He then pulled a black square out from the box, tore a slip off it and passed it to Sirius.  
  
"Have a nice day, folks!"  
  
Laurel watched him make his tour around the square while Sirius waved the black square like he had see the Muggles next to them do.  
  
"He said Cheese." Claire frowned. "Was that a spell to take the picture?"  
  
Sirius shrugged. "I am not sure. I really only understand half of the Muggle world. It is very complicated with all their machines."  
  
They looked at the picture that had manifested on the black square. Claire saw herself, smiling, a soft breeze lifting her hair. Sirius had his arms around her. They looked like a true Muggle couple. They looked happy.  
  
"It is damaged." Claire tapped the picture with her finger. "It does not move."  
  
Sirius laughed. "Muggle pictures never move," he explained and slipped the photo into his pocket. "They catch only one moment in time."  
  
* * *  
  
Exhausted from all the wonders of the Muggle world they arrived back at the entrance of the Leaking Cauldron in Charing Cross Road, with just enough time to change into their robes behind a magical curtain Sirius conjured in a door entrance.  
  
Sirius looked up at the house across the street while Claire attempted to bring some order to her braids. Up there was the flat where Laurel had spent her exile in London. And from the window on the fourth floor Severus had Apparated them both back to Hogwarts.  
  
"No easy task with a poisoned wand stuck in his shoulder," he grudgingly admitted to himself.  
  
"Shall we go?"  
  
Claire smiled at him regally, every inch a noble-witch. She wore a bottle- green robe that screamed money and matched awfully with his turquoise outfit.  
  
He shrugged. "People will throw up when they see us together."  
  
"As long as it isn't me who throws up this time …"  
  
He chuckled and pressed her hand. "Everything will be fine, you'll see."  
  
  
  
Malfoy waited for them in front of Gringott's. He wore impeccable grey, his fair hair cut short and businesslike. His mouth twitched when he took in Sirius' robes, but then a flicker of frustration showed on his face. Why couldn't he remember the wizards features? He prided himself in having a great memory for faces, never forgot one, but he would have passed by Sirius White on the street without any recollection. On the other hand, White was not worth remembering anyway. Claire Winterstorm and her fortune were to precious a prize to be wasted to a peacock like White, pure blood or not. Sooner or later they'd have to get rid of him. Preferably sooner ...  
  
He stepped down the stairs and laid a hand on Claire's arm in greeting.  
  
"My dear Claire, I may call you Claire, don't I?"  
  
She gave him a cool smile. "If you like … Lucius."  
  
"I asked you to this rather unusual meeting place to show you two things. Both are to be evidence of our Lord's power and of my sincere wish to make you one of us."  
  
Claire turned her head and took a look at the busy street. She'd rather just sit in a street café with Sirius and watch people passing by, or take a quick look into the Winterstorm book shop around the corner.  
  
"Am I supposed to see anything around here that will prove Lord Vol …", she coughed, "You-know-who's power?"  
  
"It is only a few steps away." He reached for her hand. "Let me guide you through the crowd." He raised an eyebrow. "Will Mr. White stay here and … continue admiring his reflection in the shop window?"  
  
Claire snapped at Sirius, who pretended to give a start at her cutting voice. "Sweety-pie, we are ready to go!"  
  
"Of course, my honeybun, I am right here!"  
  
The house Malfoy steered them to was all white and plain on the outside. They entered a serene hall filled with sunlight and fresh flowers. Large glass windows opened the view to a pleasant court with a small fountain. Claire saw white-robed nurses levitate patients to benches under a flowering tree. It was June by now, but the tree was covered with white buds like foam.  
  
"Have you ever been here before?" Malfoy asked.  
  
She shook her head. It was a hospital, that much she could see. If only Malfoy were not with then, she could watch the nurses and doctors and learn from them. Since Poppy Pomfrey had offered to give her lessons, she had learned a tremendous lot, and slowly the rather unconscious talent she possessed turned into a craft. Poppy had explained, that until now the talent had used her, but now she had to begin using the talent. She remembered the day she had discovered the gift, the very moment ... Ygor dying on the street in that muggle village, his big head smashed in on one side, his mouth mumbling wordless sounds. Her hands had found their own way, cupping his face, taking away the pain. By the light of the street lamps she could see a trickle of blood from his ear, and his eyelids fluttering, until suddenly his face had turned into a mask. She had caressed his cheek, and it was as if the warmth that left his body, entered her palms and found a way right to her heart. From that day on she had healed, if mostly small injuries the elves had come up for lack of other patients.  
  
"Claire?" Sirius voice was very soft, but firm enough to bring her back from her reveries into the present, where Malfoy talked to a haggard looking nurse.  
  
"This way," the witch announced briskly. "But I warn you. You won't be able to talk to him or anything."  
  
"I know." Malfoy's voice betrayed nothing but sincere worry. "But dear Alfie is my cousin after all, and I see it as my duty to visit him, even if he can't appreciate it."  
  
The nurse unlocked a door and checked the time piece she had clipped to the collar of her robes. "Ten minutes."  
  
„We won't need more," Malfoy smiled politely.  
  
As soon as the nurse had disappeared down the hall, he opened the door and gestured Claire to enter. She took a cautious step into the room. Everything was kept in white, the bed, the chair, the walls, even the tiled floor. It gave the room an eerie look, as if it had no real boundaries. On the bed lay a wizard, and only on second glance Claire recognised him as the young wizard who had cast Imperius on her at Malfoy's house. Prenner's pale eyes were open and he stared into nothingness.  
  
She could not refrain from moving a hand in front of the eyes, and they did not even blink. He seemed awake but not present. Almost like Sirius when he suffered from those spooky attacks he would not explain to her.  
  
"This is what Our Dark Lord chose as Prenner's punishment," remarked Malfoy, his words trembling with pride about his master's power.  
  
"Is he awake? Can he hear us?"  
  
"Somewhere very deep inside his mind there is a person, able to hear anything that is said. But he has absolutely no power. I see this a fit sentence for what he did to you."  
  
Claire thought it cruel and merciless, even though Prenner had tried to rape her. But nobody deserved a sentence like this, to be a prisoner in his own mind, alive and dead at the same time.  
  
"How did he do this?" she asked instead of voicing her disgust about Voldemort's punishment.  
  
"His power is beyond my grasp," explained Malfoy. "All I know is that his touch can remove everything you ever saw or heard from your memory. And without theses words and images you won't be able to communicate with the world. All you can do is exist, but reduced to just one thought, one emotion."  
  
"Incredible fear," Claire whispered.  
  
He beamed at her. "Just imagine what our Lord could do to those who stand in his way!"  
  
"Well, Malfoy, as far as I know he hasn't done anything yet. A few attacks on defenceless targets. A few injured muggles." Dumbledore had given her a list of questions she should try to get answers to, but right now she'd rather cried for the helpless body on that white hospital bed.  
  
"Our Dark Lord needed time to recover from the horrible damage that bitch Lily Potter caused when she shielded the child. Any other wizard would have died but he was able to rebuild his body, his power. A few more months and he will be as powerful as he used to be, even more so. And then …" His eyes lit up. "Then they all will tremble in fear!"  
  
He led Claire out of the room and she was thankful to be alive when he closed the door.  
  
"In fifteen minutes I shall be able to give you another prove of how powerful we are. Until then …"  
  
He looked around searchingly. „Where is your dear husband?"  
  
Claire had no idea.  
  
"Maybe he wandered off in search of a mirror," Malfoy scowled.  
  
Suddenly worried, Claire suggested he'd wait in the lobby while she searched for Sirius. She checked the wizard's room where she scared a few doctors, she asked the nurses, but nobody had seen him. Of course they would not remember him, she thought miserably. As impressive as his face was to her, to others he was neither handsome nor in any way remarkable.  
  
Desperately she entered the courtyard and approached a doctors who hurried through the door with her.  
  
"Excuse me …"  
  
He shook his head. „Sorry, Miss, but I have an emergency over there."  
  
She followed his gaze and saw Sirius cower under the tree in the middle of the yard, two nurses kneeling next to him.  
  
"This is my husband." Claire swallowed anxiously. "What is wrong?"  
  
"I couldn't tell you." The doctor shrugged. "He is suffering from some kind of fit, but I really have no idea what causes it."  
  
Claire did not listen but hurried to Sirius, who lay on the ground curled into a tight ball, his arms covering his head as if he tried to protect himself from some invisible fiend. She did not have to look to know he was biting his lips, muttering words nobody could understand.  
  
She hunched next to him, and pried his hands away from his head. "Sirius," she said firmly. Her voice was gentle but she left no doubt that she wanted him to follow her orders. "Listen to me!"  
  
He moaned. His face was pale as parchment, fine beads of perspiration showed on his forehead.  
  
"Sirius, I want you to open your eyes and look at me."  
  
The doctor held the nurse back who tried to pull Claire away from the patient. "Let her proceed," he muttered. "Don't you feel she is a healer?"  
  
"I want you to open your eyes and look at me!" Claire repeated in a soothing calm voice.  
  
Slowly he opened his eyes and looked at her, the pupils huge as if he had just woken up from a nightmare.  
  
Claire's fingertips brushed over his skin, soft as feathers.  
  
"It is alright," she whispered. "It is alright."  
  
"Not." Sirius all but pushed her back. "Don't touch me now."  
  
She sat back and bit her lips. She had known he'd do this, he had done it before, but it still hurt every time.  
  
"Can you stand up?" She tried to keep her voice calm and impersonal.  
  
"Give me a minute. Just stay away. Please."  
  
The doctor turned to her and shook his head. "That was remarkable, Miss …"  
  
"White," she said automatically.  
  
"I am Dr. Jung. I treat most prisoners in this ward and .."  
  
"Prisoners?" Claire stared at him.  
  
"We call them prisoners for want of a better term. I know you came to visit Mr. Prenner, I saw your company talk to Nurse Howard. Prenner is a prisoner, locked within the walls of his mind."  
  
She shivered. "I guess that describes his condition very well."  
  
"Your husband …"  
  
"I don't know what causes his fits. They only occur once in a while and I haven't discovered the pattern yet."  
  
"Who trained you?" he asked, still impressed by the speedy recovery of the patient, who just now tried to stand without help.  
  
"Poppy Pomfrey," Claire blushed. "I am just an amateur, really. All I do is heal the occasional broken bone. And I can calm Sirius when he …"  
  
"Madam Pomfrey!" The doctor chuckled. „Hear, hear. She is an extraordinary witch, I can tell you that. I have been to Hogwarts only a month ago, but I did not see you there."  
  
"I am not at the school …"  
  
"Claire!"  
  
Lucius crossed the courtyard with wide strides. „We must hurry to keep our next appointment." He threw a condescending gaze at Sirius who held on to the tree and still looked very pale. "Well, you seemed to have found the lost sheep. Now shall we go?"  
  
Claire gave the doctor a smile, apologising for Malfoy's impoliteness, and reached for Sirius's hand, prepared to have him jerk back. But for once he accepted her help, and they left the hospital.  
  
Out on the street again, Sirius recovered very fast.  
  
Claire watched him worriedly. "What happened?" she asked very softly so Malfoy would not hear it.  
  
"Later." Sirius shook his head warningly. Malfoy hurried them down Diagon Alley as if every minute counted.  
  
They passed shops and stalls, and again Claire wished she could just stroll through the busy street and look at the merchandise. She had been to London only once, and she had been very small then, so to her the wonders of Diagon Alley were as exciting as the sights of Muggle London. But Malfoy had grabbed her hand and all but dragged her through a small side street. Eventually he paused at a corner across from Flourish & Blott's and gave her the chance to catch her breath.  
  
"Really, Malfoy, why the hurry?" drawled Sirius.  
  
"Remember I told you I'd prove how efficiently our organisation works?" Malfoy addressed only Claire and ignored Sirius completely. "Now I want to step back into that doorway and watch."  
  
The clock on the tower of Gringott's stroke three times. As soon as the last stroke had died away, a deafening explosion shook the buildings along the street. Screams filled the air, clouds of heavy green smoke crawled out of the ruins of the store that had only seconds ago stood at the other side of the alley.  
  
Claire's eyes widened in shock when she recognised that Flourish & Blott's had just been blown to pieces. And that it was not snow that whirled through the air but shredded parchment. A group of magic-medics came running from St. Mungo's, joining the helpers who tried to rescue survivors from the rubble.  
  
"He … you … did this?" Her voice was toneless.  
  
"Indeed. F & B were a rival firm of yours, weren't they?" Malfoy smirked proudly. „They won't do any business in the next months I assume. Just to prove we can be of use to you as much as you can be of use to us."  
  
"Whose idea?" Sirius demanded. Claire sensed the tension in his body. He had covered her as soon as the explosion went off, and had not let go of her yet, and she did not want him to. Honestly, she wanted nothing more than to hide in his embrace forever. Malfoy and his Death Eaters were mad and dangerous, and had just killed several innocents to make a point. She felt sick.  
  
"Whose idea was this … statement?" Sirius repeated.  
  
Malfoy was so immersed in the view of the burning and smoking ruins he did not even look at them. "I wish I could claim this as my idea. But it was Our Lord's second in command, who planned it.."  
  
"I thought you were …" Claire cleared her throat of the tears that threatened to choke her. "I thought you were second in command."  
  
"Oh no, I am just his humble servant. But Peter Pettigrew has sacrificed more than any of us for the cause, and if anybody deserves to sit at his right side, it is Pettigrew."  
  
Claire more felt than heard Sirius breath falter.  
  
"So it was this Pettigrew's idea?" She wanted to hear it again, wanted Malfoy to reassure it.  
  
"It was." Malfoy nodded eagerly. "To let you know how much we'd appreciate your support of our cause."  
  
Sirius felt Claire's body tremble. He tried to calm her by hugging her closer, warming her. Very slowly the panic subsided.  
  
"This was very ... impressive indeed," she said in a cool voice to Malfoy.  
  
But when Sirius met her eyes in the reflection of the window, he knew that now there was a person who hated Pettigrew almost as much as he did.  
  
* * * 


	8. The Right to Care

8. THE RIGHT TO CARE  
  
  
  
„All my fault. It is all my fault." Claire could not cease to whisper that one sentence over and over.  
  
Last evening they had left Malfoy in London, after a dreadful visit to Gringott's where Claire had handed Voldemort's third in command a bag filled with golden galleons - a transaction that filled her with disgust and self loathing. How could she support a cause that killed innocents just to set an example? Even if this mission was for the sake of the victory of all things good and noble - how would she ever be able to live with the knowledge that so many had been killed along the way? Malfoy had brimmed over with pride and excitement about the successful assault. He had promised her to arrange a meeting with Voldemort himself as soon as possible - a prospect that made Claire wince. It had taken all her strength and Sirius' reassuring presence to answer the promise with a cool smile.  
  
  
  
Now they sat in Dumbledore's office, Snape watching Claire over his steepled fingers with an unreadable expression, Dumbledore patting her hand every once in a while. It was Sirius who had given them a short but detailed report about the afternoon with Malfoy. All Claire had been able to say was the one sentence about it all being her fault.  
  
Sirius grew desperate. He had spent all night awake, holding Claire who had not slept at all until he made her take a potion. Even in her sleep she had tossed and turned and muttered the same words. But she was wrong, he thought. It was not her fault. It was his. He should have never agreed to this foolish plan. He hated to admit it, but Snape had been right. It had been suicidal and ignorant to put Claire in a position where Voldemort could hurt her so easily. Dumbledore had made Sirius her bodyguard, but they had never considered the possibility that Claire could get hurt indirectly, by what the Death Eaters did to others.  
  
And he had not been able to protect her ...  
  
He felt the Headmasters gaze and looked up to meet the babyblue eyes of the old wizard. Dumbledore lightly shook his head. "Don't do this to you, Sirius" he said softly.  
  
Omniscient, thought Sirius, uneasily shifting in his chair. How did he do it? How did he know what everybody was thinking? But then again - Dumbledore was so old there couldn't be many situations he had not gone through yet.  
  
Snape looked a Claire who rocked lightly back and forward, muttering her mea-culpa. His face twisted into a scowl.  
  
"Of course you are right, Claire," he confirmed acridly. "It is all your fault."  
  
In a flash Sirius evaded his chair, grabbed Snape at the shoulders and slammed him into the wall, not bothering with wands and spells. The helpless anger he had harboured since he had stood at the smoking ruins of Flourish & Blotts brimmed over. Had Dumbledore not seized his wrist with surprising strength, he'd strangled the Potions master right there, for hurting Claire even more when she ached already.  
  
"Let go of him. Now," said the Headmaster calmly. "Let him finish what he has to say."  
  
Snape coughed and smoothed his robes indignantly. Giving Sirius a cynical sneer, he concentrated on Claire, who had not even looked up when Sirius attacked.  
  
"My fault," she muttered again.  
  
"Right," said Snape and took the chair next to her.  
  
Dumbledore laid a frail hand on Sirius's arm and whispered: "Trust him."  
  
"I can't. He is hurting her." Sirius was pale and watched Snape carefully, ready to yank him away from Claire if necessary.  
  
"I don't think so," said Dumbledore.  
  
"It is all your fault," repeated Snape casually. "The explosion, Mr Blotts' injuries …"  
  
Claire looked up reluctantly. "He is … not dead?"  
  
Snape shook his head. "Call it a hunch, but he told his employees to take the afternoon off. He was the only one in the building and though he suffered severe head injuries he is on the way to recovery."  
  
She sighed. "But he could be dead. They all could be dead. And it is all …"  
  
"Your fault," Snape finished the sentence for her. "As it is your fault, that your dear husband tried to feed me to our common friend, the werewolf, when we were sixteen. It is your fault I did all I could to have him kissed by the Dementors two years ago. Your fault that Miss Kennedy turned the poor fool Lupin down. Your fault they don't serve any more ginger ice cream at The Three Broomsticks."  
  
She raised her head, suddenly annoyed. "It is not …"  
  
"Not your fault," he concluded silkily. "Now why would that be so, Claire?"  
  
She stared into his hard black eyes. "Because they … you …"  
  
"Because we are people who make their own decisions. We are able to distinguish what is wrong and what is right. And therefore all of us are responsible for our own actions. As is Lucius Malfoy." He gently reached for her hand, a gesture that surprised Sirius even more than the way his reasoning took.  
  
"I know Lucius. His mind is sharp and cold as a knife. He knows exactly what he is doing. What happened in Diagon Alley is not your fault. It is his, and his alone."  
  
"No, it was Peter's," Sirius interfered calmly. "Malfoy told us it was Pettigrew's idea."  
  
Snape looked at him, wordlessly.  
  
"Then he'll be held responsible for that, too," said Dumbledore.  
  
  
  
When they left the study and waited for the winding stair to transport them down, Claire dared not look at Sirius. She needed not see his face to know he was angry with her. Guiltily she curled a lock around the fingers of her right hand.  
  
They crossed the hall and still Sirius had not said a word.  
  
Claire took a deep breath and faced him.  
  
"What is wrong?"  
  
His eyes widened. "Wrong? You ask me what is wrong?" He scowled at her. "You could have died yesterday, or could get killed anytime. This must stop. And it shall stop right here."  
  
Claire did not trust her ears. "Stop? What do you mean?"  
  
"The plan. Forget about it. It is too dangerous. I am not taking you near Malfoy ever again."  
  
A white hot flame of anger shot through Claire's heart.  
  
"You won't take me with you? Right." She narrowed her eyes. "I am just a squib, is that it? I am too dumb to understand what is going on."  
  
"Claire, baby …"  
  
"Don't baby me, Sirius!" Tears welled up and desperation almost choked her. She had dreaded this moment, had always known it would come. But now it seemed so painful she just wanted to die. "Go on, say it! Tell me what you really think about me!"  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "Claire, listen … Don't you see that you are …"  
  
"Stupid. Weak. Useless."  
  
Claire rose on tiptoes and slapped him across the face. Before Sirius could react, she turned on her heel without giving him any opportunity to explain and ran out of the hall. Storming through the entrance door, she ran into Remus on the stairs outside the castle and, without thinking, grabbed Lupin's broomstick that hovered at waist-height.  
  
As soon as she straddled the broom, it started to rise with surprising speed. Then it shot like a rocket towards the rooftop.  
  
"No!" Sirius cried out when he took in the situation.  
  
Remus just stared upwards in frozen shock. Sirius brushed him aside when he ran down the stairs.  
  
"She is a squib, she can't stir a fucking broom. It is going to crash into the wall any minute!" he yelled at Remus.  
  
"I know that," replied Lupin furiously. "It is not like I handed it to her. She just took it from me!"  
  
"I need a broom, now!"  
  
But there was none. All the students' brooms had been taken home for the holidays, the school brooms lay stripped down in Hagrid's shed, and the only broom in the broomshed that obeyed to Sirius' desperate "Accio", was Flitwick's. Which meant it was only two feet long ...  
  
Claire screamed with fear when the broom started to loop in spirals.  
  
"Can't you call your broom to you?" Sirius looked at Remus, and although the Werewolf concentrated on thinking up a solution for the situation, part of his mind noticed the fear in his friend's eyes. Marriage in name only - ha!  
  
He tried to summon the broom, but it only made Claire scream more desperately and almost fall off the broomstick when it did a sudden dive towards its master.  
  
"I'll Apparate," said Sirius through gritted teeth.  
  
"Are you out of your mind?" Remus stared at him indignantly. "You can't Apparate onto a moving object! If you miss it, you'll break your neck!"  
  
"It is Claire's neck I worry about right now."  
  
Sirius clenched his fists and tried to clear his mind. He had always been good at Apparating and had perfected the art when he and James applied for their licence. They had Apparated up and down the West Tower, and once, he remembered quite clearly, he had Apparated off his motorcycle in full flight. He could do this.  
  
And he did.  
  
Claire screamed again when the broom dipped suddenly with the added weight. Sirius wrapped one arm around her and used his right hand to gain control of the bucking broom. Very slowly he managed to force it into a smooth course that led them safely towards the ground.  
  
Claire trembled. She grabbed his arm so hard it hurt.  
  
Sirius exhaled shakily. "That was close."  
  
"That was stupid." Her voice was but a whisper and drowned in tears. "You are right. I am nothing but a stupid squib."  
  
"No, you are not stupid." Sirius drew her close enough to look at her face without letting go off the broom. "You are foolish though."  
  
"Sirius," Claire whispered, her face still white as parchment. "Please. I'll be braver next time. I won't cry anymore. But please let me go on with the plan. Don't be angry with me …"  
  
He flinched as if she had hit him again.  
  
"Baby, I am not angry with you", he said helplessly as he lowered the broom carefully. The familiar tingling in his neck alarmed him. He had only minutes before the darkness would shut out the world and the voices would start pleading again. "I am angry with myself for not protecting you from what Malfoy did to you. And for not being able to help you out of your sadness." He tried to breath slowly to win time to assure her. "Snape could help you where I failed."  
  
"It was not Severus who held me all night long," she whispered against his neck. "I would not have made it yesterday without you by my side. I knew you would not leave me alone with Malfoy. That damned murderer!" She started crying again, but this time in anger, not desperation, as Sirius noticed in relief.  
  
He sat Claire carefully onto the ground. Fine beads of perspiration covered his forehead by now. His heart raced. He needed to get away.  
  
Fast.  
  
Now.  
  
"Can you take Claire home safely?"  
  
He looked at Remus who stood on the stairs, still pale with shock, and knew the werewolf could easily see that something was wrong. But he trusted his friend not to say anything. For now. Later Remus would bug him as long as necessary to make him talk. Kind, reasonable Remus who still believed every problem could be solved by talking it out ... But now he'd let Sirius go, and he'd care for Claire.  
  
Lupin nodded ever so lightly, only raised an eyebrow when he noticed Sirius' condition. "I shall make sure she gets home. Don't worry." And very softly: "Take care, my friend."  
  
* * *  
  
After midnight Claire was ready to call it a day. She had worked in the living room since the office seemed too small and narrow all of a sudden. Sirius had not come home, nor had he sent an owl like he usually did when he spent the night somewhere else in Dumbledore's service. Despite his assurances earlier on, he must be very angry with her. Trying to argument away her worries, Claire made a mental list of reasons beside anger about her foolish broom ride that might keep Sirius away. But all she could think of were possible dangers, and that made it even worse.  
  
She gathered the letters she had written into a neat stack and fetched the quill case from her office to store away the semi-magical quill.  
  
In the hallway she heard the entrance door open and close again, and peeked around the corner. It was not Sirius though, just one of the elves. The disappointment hurt like a sharp stab through her stomach. But when she turned back into the living room, she felt a soft tugging at her skirt. Looking down, she saw Peagreen's round face, usually happily excited, but now gloomy and with a never before noticed frown between the eyes. The elf seemed deeply worried, and Claire hunched down on her heels and drew her into a warm hug. Lately she felt the desire to hug people and creatures alike, a desire that seemed to stem from the pleasure of physical contact Sirius had shown her. It had nothing to do with sex - only where it concerned her husband, she thought and blushed - but with closeness and reassurance. For all those emotions she'd only had words to express them, until Sirius had taught her that a touch, an embrace at the right time could mean so much more than words.  
  
"What is it, little one?" she asked.  
  
Peagreen blinked. It was obvious she had been pondering complicated thoughts for some time now. The tomato-sized nose had lost its healthy green colour and turned a sickly puce. Eventually the elf could not hold back any longer.  
  
"If some-elf gots a gift, Miss Claire?"  
  
She smiled reassuringly. "Yes. A gift?"  
  
"Is that elf to keeps it or can the elf pass the gift on?"  
  
Stunned, Claire thought about it. Her elves held the very idea of property as a heretical and almost indecent concept. So why this sudden interest in gifts?  
  
"Well, I guess if someone gives you a thing as a gift, it makes you the owner, and you are free to do with it as you like."  
  
Peagreen hiccuped in relief. "Then I gives it now to you, Miss Claire."  
  
"To me?" She shook her head. "Peagreen, I don't understand."  
  
The elf grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the entrance door. "Miss Claire's Sirius is giving Peagreen a secret. And Peagreen is passing it to you."  
  
Claire got up and tried to hold the little creature back.  
  
"Wait. I am afraid a secret is not like any other gift!"  
  
Peagreen's ears drooped in disappointment. "But if the secret hurt really really bad?"  
  
"It hurts? What do you mean?"  
  
Instead of an answer the elf stepped behind her and all but pushed her to the door. Claire gave up and stepped outside. The night was cold, and the rain that had started hours ago, poured down like a grey curtain. The light from the tall windows fell on the ground and drew perfect rectangles.  
  
"He be down there," whispered Peagreen as loud a she could, and when Claire's gaze followed the elf's pointing hand, she froze in shock.  
  
Right at the foot of the wide stairs lay a great black dog, his fur matted and tangled with nettles, the huge paws raw and bleeding. Claire took a closer look and noticed that the fur was not only wet and dirty, but bloody all over the back. Her throat got dry.  
  
"Sirius?" she whispered.  
  
The dog whined softly. When Claire reached out to pat his head, the animal began to flicker, to transform. For a second a human body appeared on the ground, curled into a ball, as wet and dirty as the dog had been. But then the wizard faded away again and changed back into canine shape.  
  
Claire turned to Peagreen.  
  
"This is the secret?"  
  
The elf nodded unhappily. "He does bleeding, every night he runs and comes bleeding. But it is a secret, he gives me a secret and I gives it to you, so it is all right. No, Miss Claire?"  
  
She forced a small smile. "Yes. You did the right thing, sweetie."  
  
The dog whimpered in pain when she touched his warm nose, and transformed into Sirius again. He lay on his back, deep dark rings under his eyes, breathing too fast and too shallow. Claire took his wrist and felt his pulse.  
  
"Sirius," she urged softly. "Can you stand up?"  
  
When he declined with a small motion of his head, she felt panic rise in her heart. And suddenly she understood what Poppy had been on about a few days ago. Apparently this was not the first time Sirius got hurt, and yet he had never ever come to her. He had gone to Poppy for help and treatment of his wounds. No wonder the matron was worried about the state of their marriage. If it were not for his terrible condition, which required her immediate attention, Claire would have been very angry with him. But right now she decided to postpone anger and hurt until she had taken care of him.  
  
"Peagreen," she said more calmly than she felt, "get the others and help me to carry Sirius into the house."  
  
A few minutes later eight elves and Claire were busy to move the wizard's tall frame up the stairs and into the bathroom. The elves showed remarkable strength but it was tricky to get the long legs around corners, and twice Claire almost let go of Sirius' head, only to catch him before he hit the stairs. Finally they succeeded to get him into the bathroom where the elves lowered the body carefully onto the floor.  
  
Claire wished once more she'd been able to do just a little magic. Right now it would suffice to levitate Sirius into the tub or to let the robes vanish. But being a squib she had to resort to scissors. She cut the ragged and muddy robes off his body and unfastened the laces that tied his boots. With a sharp hiss she stared at his terribly hurt feet. Apparently it did not matter whether an Animagus changed with clothes and shoes or naked. Whatever befell him in animal form took its effect on the body, not the clothes.  
  
Where the fur on the dog's back had been bloody, Sirius' body showed a huge bruise.  
  
Claire began gingerly to clean the abrasions and the swelling with a wet cloth and again she understood only now why Poppy had put so much emphasis on how to clean shallow wounds and cuts.  
  
When he was reasonably clean, Claire sent an elf to fetch clothes from Sirius' bedroom. The soft drawstring pants would not hurt him, she thought when she dressed the still unconscious wizard with some effort. But there was no way he'd wear shoes or a shirt until she had not healed the wound on his feet and his back.  
  
Tenderly she brushed the hair out of his face, and the soft touch made Sirius open his eyes. His lips were encrusted with blood and he did not try to speak. Instead his gaze told Clare everything. He wanted her to leave him alone, to spare him the humiliation of laying on the bathroom floor, half naked, completely helpless. He wanted her to get up and leave, and close the door and never mention this incident.  
  
But that she would not do.  
  
"Can you levitate, just a little?" she asked.  
  
He shook his head wearily.  
  
Claire took his wand from the rags that had been Sirius' robes and closed his hand around it.  
  
"Try," she pleaded. "Only an inch or two so I can move you someplace warmer."  
  
He had started to shiver violently on the tiled floor, and Claire could not tell whether he was cold or in shock. Probably both, she feared.  
  
Sirius closed his eyes again and his lips moved without sound. Painfully slowly the body lifted inch by inch until it floated in knee height. Claire gently stirred him out of the bathroom across the hall and into the living room. She knew that she'd better get him into bed soon, but dreaded the stairs to the first floor while Sirius was not able to walk. Right now she needed a warm room with a fire going, and the living room couch would be almost as good as a bed.  
  
When she had finally pushed and pulled him to the couch, she exhaled in relief. She tended to forget how much taller than she Sirius really was. He always picked her up when they kissed, and in bed it didn't really matter. But it mattered of course when trying to stir arms and legs and body through furniture and hallway doors.  
  
Sirius could not suppress a pained groan when he lowered onto the couch and his back touched the soft cushions. Claire raked both hands through her hair that had by long escaped her braid. What was she to do first?  
  
The legs would need some work with all the small cuts, so she'd start with the bruise on his back, to make it less painfully for him to sit. She stepped behind the couch and softly placed both palms over the area that was rapidly turning black and blue. Poppy had taught her how to use her power without actually touching the wound or injury she was treating. Concentrating on her wish to ease his pain and onto the warmth that welled up in her heart she moved her hands, spreading warmth all over Sirius' back. He felt how the pain faded, Claire could tell as much from the way the tension in his upper body loosened. When she was done, the bruise had paled and almost disappeared, and Sirius' breathing was back to normal.  
  
Claire waited a minute, to make sure she had not missed any internal injuries. Then she went back to her earlier position in front of the couch and kneeled down to take a closer look at his feet. A slight frown appeared between her brows. When she had seen the cuts for the first time she had thought that by accident Sirius - or better the dog - had stepped on shattered glass. Now she recognised the injuries as what they were - signs of a very long run.  
  
When she looked up, she met Sirius' eyes, darker than ever, not blue anymore. His face was without colour but for the bruise that bloomed at his jaw  
  
"Please go away," he rasped. "I don't want you … to see me … like this."  
  
Claire's lip trembled. She let go of his ankle and reached for his hand, gently but firmly. When he flinched, she entwined her fingers with his.  
  
"It is my right to see you like this. As it is yours to safe my life every once in a while."  
  
She pressed a kiss on his wrist. "I am sorry I hit you this afternoon …"  
  
He only shook his head, so exhausted he could not muster the energy to speak.  
  
Claire cupped his head with both hands, and forced him to look down and face her. His eyes were dark with tiredness and something else she had never seen there before - fear. He looked like somebody who had confronted a terrible enemy and had recognised he would not be strong enough to withstand.  
  
"As your wife it is my right to feed you when you are hungry. To warm you when you are cold. To tend to your wounds when you are hurt." Her voice shook but her eyes never left his. "On our wedding day I acquired the right to take care of you, until our marriage is over. And you will not deny me this." Her mouth set into a determined line.  
  
Sirius looked at her for a long time.  
  
It was impossible to read anything from his stony face, so all Claire could do was wait and hope he'd see that all she wanted was to be his wife. Until the marriage was over. She hated that thought and yet she had to repeat it again and again whenever she felt happy with Sirius.  
  
She'd not hinder him, she'd set him free, she would, good Goddess. But not now, not while they were still married.  
  
Then Sirius bowed his head as if he surrendered in battle.  
  
She almost sobbed in relief..  
  
Covering his foot with both hands she sent warmth into him, let her fingertips caress the torn skin until it mended under her gentle touch. Sirius sighed softly and relaxed a little.  
  
She repeated the treatment with the other foot, and then, still kneeling, looked up at him.  
  
"Why did you not come to me?" she asked softly and although she tried to keep her voice blank, the anger and hurt let it tremble. "Why did you seek help from Poppy Pomfrey and not from me?"  
  
"I did not know you could do this." Sirius swallowed and rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead.  
  
"You did not know I could heal. But you knew I was there. Even if I had not been able to treat you I should have known."  
  
"Claire, I …"  
  
She raised both hands in exasperation. "You disappear night after night. you apparently run yourself into exhaustion and bloody sores. You get these … fits." She could see how he retreated and told herself not to allow him to evade her questions this time. "What is wrong, Sirius?"  
  
He shook his head, wordlessly, hopelessly.  
  
"Sirius." She reached for his hand and he flinched again. "You know I can be awfully stubborn. I am not going to let you get away without an explanation this time."  
  
He stood up, slowly, aching, like an old man. Stepping to the window, he pressed his forehead to the cool glass and stared out into the darkness. His back had healed by now, the skin showed no sign of abrasion or bruising. Like any time when she saw her husband half naked, Claire could only marvel at the sheer beauty of his body, the muscles under the lightly tanned skin, the broad shoulders, the long legs. Shyly she embraced him and rubbed her cheek against his bare back.  
  
Almost reluctantly Sirius relaxed, breath by breath.  
  
"I am going crazy," he said so softly she had to raise her head to him to understand.  
  
Claire's eyes widened in awe. She had been prepared for almost anything - a confession of marital infidelity, another secret mission, even that he was sick and tired of playing her bodyguard. But not this. Crazy? Laurel had told her about Sirius' violent mood swings, and she had seen with her own eyes how he had reduced Prenner's face to bloody pulp. But he had had a good reason then, or hadn't he? And he had never hurt her. In her company he always seemed calm, as steady as a rock.  
  
"What makes you think so?" she asked carefully.  
  
"I can't talk about it," he replied stiffly. "I have to go through this on my own."  
  
Claire slipped between his tall frame and the window, so he could not block her out any more.  
  
"No," she said.  
  
He avoided to look at her but could not ignore her soft touch when she caressed his face.  
  
"No, you don't," she repeated.  
  
Sirius sighed softly and rested his chin on her head. "I don't."  
  
  
  
Claire extinguished the lamps until the only light in the room came from the fire. Then she led Sirius to the couch and gently pushed him down until he lay flat on the back, his head propped up on a pillow. Claire fetched a cashmere blanket from a trunk to cover him, and sat down by his side and kissed him softly.  
  
"Better now?"  
  
Sirius' blue eyes searched hers. Then he pulled back the blanket, wordlessly, and drew Claire to him until she laid next to him, snuggled against his chest.  
  
"I am not going to break down like this every day, I promise," he whispered, his voice tainted with embarrassment.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Just …  
  
Claire kissed the side of his neck, where his pulse beat under her lips. "Just tonight."  
  
She waited patiently until he spoke, painfully hesitantly at first.  
  
"You know … how the Potters died."  
  
Claire nodded. "Minerva told me. Peter Pettigrew used his position as Secret Keeper to deliver them to …. Him. And then Peter framed you, so everybody would think you were guilty."  
  
"For the first month I was in shock. I had just lost my best friend, and Lily, who we all adored. Peter, little Peter Pettigrew, a wizard I trusted like a brother, had betrayed us all, had killed all those innocents in the street. In Azkaban they keep all prisoners in solidary confinement. I had not had a trial, therefore I had no lawyer, and Fudge had given the order to not let anybody visit me. For a month nobody talked to me. I sat in my cell in utter silence. The only sound I could hear was the cry of a seabird now and then, the rain whipping the walls and the storm howling. The Dementors left me alone, did not consider me a treat. I had no happy thought in my mind to feed them, so they would not care, only push a bowl with tasteless slop through the bars of the cell every other day."  
  
He searched for words and Claire began to gently stroke his back to warm him.  
  
"My condition saved my life in the first month. But slowly I started to recover. I could not cease mourning James and Lil, but I stopped staring into nothingness. I began to ask myself, when the trial would be, what I would tell the judge. But there was no trial. There would never be a trial. When I recognised that I was guilty and as good as dead in the eyes of the outside world, I started to rage. I threw myself against the bars. I tore my hands bloody in the futile attempt to break through the stone walls. It made the Dementors notice me. They feed on happiness, but any emotion will do when they get hungry."  
  
He shivered and Claire pulled the blanket closer around them both.  
  
"It was then I heard the voices for the first time. In the beginning I thought it had to be the prisoner in the cell next to me. He cried, pitifully, he begged to get released. But mostly he cried for somebody to talk to, so he would not be so lonely. I tried to block my ears, I tried to shut him out, but I could not. So I started to talk to him, through the walls. Or at least I thought so. Then, after a few days, the Dementors dragged a dead body out from the cell next to mine. I cried for him, because he had become my companion in a way. The cell remained empty, but the voice kept wailing. Only then I understood."  
  
Claire stopped stroking his back in astonishment. "He was dead but the voice still talked to you?"  
  
Sirius laughed softly, but it was not a humorous laugh. "It did not only keep talking, but invited friends. Male voices, female voices, old ones, younger ones. All of them begging me, pleading, crying."  
  
"What did they want?"  
  
"They wanted me to talk to them. They were all alone, each in their own cell, out of reach for anybody but me. So I talked to them. I did what I had done when my brothers felt frightened, when we were still kids. I told them stories. It kept me alive, all those years. And at the same time it ate me up. I transformed for days to keep them out of my mind, but I couldn't stay Padfoot forever."  
  
"Stories," Claire repeated thoughtfully. "You told them stories." And suddenly she understood. "You still hear those voices, don't you? When you get the attacks …"  
  
He remained silent for almost a minute and Claire felt how he tried to calm his breath. Even the thought about the voices taking possession of his mind let his heartbeat race.  
  
"They demand I keep talking to them."  
  
"Sirius …"  
  
He drew in a shuddering breath. "I tried to block them, ignore them. Then I found that if I ran until I dropped from exhaustion, they'd leave me alone. So I transformed into animal shape and ran whenever I felt them in my mind. When I am a dog, they can't reach me. But lately it does not work anymore. Sometimes I am so tired and broken I can't get up anymore when I transform back."  
  
Sirius buried his face in Claire's hair. "I can't go on like this anymore."  
  
"Why don't you do what they want?" she asked softly. "Why don't you give them the stories they crave? They are all alone, whoever they are. They seem to need you."  
  
"Claire," he sighed. "They are not real. The voices are a sign I am losing my mind. I have seen that happen before, believe me. I know how it starts ... and how it ends. I imagined them because I was all alone in my cell."  
  
"But lets pretend for a moment they were real. Prisoners in the cell next to you. Would you talk to them?"  
  
He drew her so close it almost hurt. "I'd do anything for those held captive in Azkaban. Nobody deserves that kind of punishment."  
  
"Then talk to them, Sirius."  
  
"They won't let go," he whispered hoarsely. "I am afraid if I start talking they'll not allow me to stop anymore."  
  
"Talk to me then," Claire suggested. "Tell me a story and let them listen. If they feel you won't ignore them anymore they might become less demanding. And I'll help you find the way back." She propped up on one elbow and tried to make out his eyes in the dim light from the fire. "It is just you and me in this room. You are free, Sirius. Free, and in safety. Give them what they crave."  
  
Gradually relaxing under her tender caresses, Sirius started to speak.  
  
It was amazing how his voice changed. It grew stronger and lower, as soft as velvet, mesmerising. The stories Sirius told, evoked pictures in Claire's mind, of people she had never met, places she had never been to. He made her laugh and he made her cry, and he made her beg for another story and another one, until the fire in the hearth slowly died, and they both fell asleep.  
  
  
  
And the semi-magical quill on the side-table kept writing and writing all night long, until he was out of parchment.  
  
* * * 


	9. The First Gift

9. The First Gift  
  
  
  
Claire stood in the bathroom and studied at her face in the mirror. Something was different, she thought, touching her cheeks, her lips. She just could not name it. She was positively glowing, her skin radiant even in the soft light of the candle.  
  
It was the middle of the night. Sirius was fast asleep in her bed, and she had no idea why she had awoken at this hour. She was not ill - at the contrary, she had never felt so … good … so strong before. So aware of her body and of the whole world around her. It must be Sirius who had that effect on her, she decided. They were married for almost eight weeks now and where there had been awkwardness at first, was now something that resembled a friendship. At least from Sirius' part, thought Claire. He might be her friend - while she loved him. She'd never tell him of course, not after he had all but forbidden her to feel anything for him. But as long as she kept her love in her heart, it would live, and when Sirius was gone and she was alone again, it would still warm her.  
  
Meanwhile she'd make sure that Sirius was happy or as happy as possible for a wizard with his past. Coming clean about the attacks had made him calmer, more balanced. He told her stories almost every evening, and once or twice she had had to force him back into the real world, away from the voices. But he learned to keep control step by step.  
  
After the first night, Claire had found the semi-magic quill in the morning, reduced to a stump, on top of a stack of writings, spent to exhaustion. At first she'd assumed the parchment her own letters until she had read the top sheet.  
  
The quill had duly written down every word of Sirius' stories - and just by reading them again, Claire relived all the emotions of the previous night. She cried. She laughed helplessly.  
  
And then, before Sirius awoke on the couch, she locked the parchments away in her desk.  
  
  
  
Eight weeks. She stuck out her tongue at the image in the mirror. Only eight weeks and she fussed about him like his wife of eight years.  
  
Eight weeks. She froze. Her hand trailed gingerly down her body, between her breasts, over her stomach and settled down beyond her navel. Or course it was ridiculous … Or was it? Could it be possible?  
  
She felt dizzy all of a sudden, her head light with joy.  
  
The signs … all the signs had been there and she had ignored them, had blamed them on the excitement of her changed life. She was thirty-two and had given up the hope for a child many years ago, when it seemed clear she'd never be married. Who should have given her a child when she was locked away in this house? The desire had waned but never died. And now there would be a baby …  
  
Sirius' baby …  
  
She could not tell him. As strong as the impulse was to run into the bedroom and wake him, tell him, she knew she must never do that. If their mission was successful, Voldemort might be defeated before the baby was born. Sirius would leave, would be free, free to do all the things the fates had withheld from him until now. See the world. Write books. Find love ….  
  
Sighing she extinguished the candle. She loved him and so she would not tie him to her life by means of a baby. Because one thing she knew for sure - Sirius would never leave his child. But she did not want him to stay out of responsibility and honour. So she'd not tell him.  
  
When she slipped back under the duvet and Sirius reached for her in his sleep and drew her in his arms, she settled into his embrace, again marvelling how well their bodies fit to each other's. She let him hold her and lay still, content to listen to his heartbeat.  
  
A baby.  
  
Would it be a boy or a girl? How would she ever be able to raise a kid all alone? Claire smiled and gently kissed Sirius' arm. She was not alone anymore. Sirius had opened the world to her. And when she had a child, she'd never be alone again. The elves would help her, and she supposed she could always ask Poppy about the details of pregnancy. Although it would remain her secret as long as possible. What a gift, what an incredible precious gift!  
  
Rubbing her cheek against Sirius' warm skin, she whispered very softly: "Thank you."  
  
Sirius muttered something in his sleep and sighed when she kissed his ear..  
  
Claire smiled. She'd find a way to thank him, to make him as happy as she was now. The three things she knew he wanted - she'd make sure he'd get them.  
  
* * *  
  
Three days later Claire stood in Snape's quarters in front of the cold fireplace and clasped her hands in silent uneasiness. She'd come to speak to Laurel, but had only found the Potions master who seemed to be in a vile mood and had offered her neither seat nor refreshment while she waited. He kept rummaging around, mumbling something about "fools in love" and ignored her otherwise.  
  
When Laurel eventually entered, Claire let out a long breath of relief.  
  
"Claire," Laurel smiled at her. "How nice of you to visit. I am sorry for the chaos, but we are packing."  
  
"You'll go on holidays?" Claire winced. Right now, when she desperately needed Laurel's help!  
  
"Next week!" Laurel beamed. "We'll visit my parents, and since we plan to stay for a few weeks, there are a lot of preparations necessary." Winking at Snape, who scowled back, she whispered, "Two cauldrons! And a mortar and pestle. Of course we can't go on holidays without that."  
  
Claire chuckled at the expression of mild exasperation on her friend's face. She knew quite well that Laurel had seen her family only once since she'd been abducted by the Ministry and been sent to Hogwarts to learn how to deal with the magical talent she possessed. No wonder she was excited. "How did you convince Severus?" she asked.  
  
"An eye for an eye. One week with my parents. One week hunting rare plants in the mountains." Laurel shrugged. "Thank God for the blue-spotted what- ever that only grows in the Austrian Alps!"  
  
"It's not spotted but striped." Snape arched one eyebrow and kept his face as austere as possible. "But trust me, before we return, you will know exactly what it looks like. And where it can be found. And how it must be harvested."  
  
"Probably naked by the light of the full moon," Laurel joked, and Claire watched in amusement how her friend's face flushed when Severus nodded seriously. Suddenly she felt like an intruder to a very intimate moment. Still, she needed Laurel's help ...  
  
Clearing her throat she reached for Laurel's hand and begged: "Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?"  
  
They left Snape and his equipment, and wandered through the hall and out of the castle.  
  
  
  
On the stairs they almost tripped over Serene, who sat in the sun with a spell-book in her lap.  
  
"I really can't remember ever being as bored as I am right now," the red- haired witch sighed.  
  
The three women settled down on the lawn in front of the castle.  
  
"Aren't you busy enough making Remus Lupin miserable?" Claire blushed when she saw Serene frown. "Sorry, I know it is not my business."  
  
"Exactly!" Serene snapped. "Just why is everybody thinking they have a right to interfere with my private life? Or Remus' for that matter?"  
  
"We like him," Claire explained. "And we like you, too."  
  
Serene stared at her with narrowed eyes. "So?"  
  
"So we want to see you happy." Laurel interfered calmly.  
  
Before Serene could answer, Claire felt she had to change the subject or this conversation would end in bitter argument. Whatever it was that constantly went wrong between Serene and Remus, they were both grown-ups and had to deal with it alone.  
  
"I came to ask Laurel to accompany me to London tomorrow," she said.  
  
"To London? Can I come, too?" Serene begged, apparently glad that Claire had stirred the conversation away from her love-life. "These walls are crushing me right now. It is so empty and calm without the students."  
  
Claire noticed something in the beautiful witch's face that had not been there a few weeks ago, a faint trace of desperation around the eyes. Suddenly she pittyed Serene, maybe for the first time. She had envied her as long as she knew her, but now she was so happy and Serene seemed so genuinely unhappy ...  
  
"You are not going to visit your family?" she asked gently.  
  
"No-one to visit. At least no-one I care about," Serene shrugged. "So one day in London is the best I can get."  
  
"If we leave early in the morning," Laurel suggested, "we can fly straight to London and back in a day."  
  
Claire looked at her shoes. Was this the moment when she had to confess? "I'd rather go by train."  
  
"You are not too fond of flying, are you?" Serene remembered. "Remus told me you had a problem with his broom a few days ago."  
  
"Well, I suppose we can always Apparate." Laurel bit her lip. "Only ... Apparating is not really my favourite choice of transportation."  
  
"I can't Apparate either," Claire admitted. Then she sighed and looked at the two witches, her face pale with anxiety. "I guess I have to tell you now."  
  
"Tell us what?"  
  
"I can't fly. I can't Apparate. I can't even take the damned Express, because I won't be able to leave the platform at King's Cross."  
  
Serene and Laurel stared at her.  
  
"I am a squib." Claire's voice died away in humiliation. "To leave or enter the platform you need magic … and I don't have any."  
  
"Oh Claire," Laurel hugged her impulsively. "You should have told us before!"  
  
Serene nodded silently. Then she suddenly smiled. "We'll go with you by train and drag you through that wall off the platform!"  
  
"That's what I hoped to hear," sighed Claire. They had taken it much better than she'd expected. But then they were special each in their own way, both being stray witches who had been brought to Hogwarts as adult students.  
  
"So what are you planing to do in London?"  
  
Claire's mouth twitched. "You'll see in time."  
  
* * *  
  
In front of the Dursley's house Claire smoothed her navy blue suit jacket and checked the tight bun and half-moon glasses Serene had seen fit for a Headmistress. She looked a bit like Minerva McGonagall, she thought, when she saw herself in the small pocket mirror, and the idea made her giggle nervously.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she pressed the button at the door. Laurel had provided her with an intense lecture in Muggle culture on the train ride to London, and so it was no surprise to her when a bell somewhere inside the house chimed "Rule Britannia".  
  
A fat teenage boy opened the door, a half eaten pizza slice in his chubby hand.  
  
"Watchawant?" he asked, chewing his food with great dedication.  
  
"I am Professor Winterstorm," Claire raised her eyebrows and looked down at the boy with the sternest expression she could muster. "I'd like to speak to your parents."  
  
The boy turned wordlessly and trotted back inside, not without yelling: "Mum!"  
  
A thin brunette came down the stairs, patting the boy indulgently on the head.  
  
"Can I help you?" she asked suspiciously, when she saw Claire at the doorstep.  
  
"I am Professor Winterstorm," Claire repeated and stretched out her hand, as Laurel had shown her. Somewhat surprised Mrs. Dursley shook the visitor's hand.  
  
"I am Headmistress of The Manor, a correctional institution for incurably malevolent wizards."  
  
"Wizards?" Petunia Dursley paled. "Are you … You are …"  
  
"Me, a witch?" Claire pursed her lips. "Good god, no! I do my best to make them see the error in their ways, but … well, you know how they are." She gave the woman a small conspicuous smile. "Stubborn and impudent."  
  
Harry's aunt rolled her eyes. "No need to tell me," she sighed. "Please, do come in. My husband will be delighted to meet you."  
  
Obviously Petunia was dead right about that. Vernon Dursley could hardly stop asking the stern young Professor questions about the very strict institute she represented. Claire went out of her way to explain how boys like Harry needed a strong hand - "and a cane at times, I am afraid" and how the deprivation of warm showers and regular meals did wonders for the juvenile delinquents in her care.  
  
"Even Headmaster Dumbledore had to admit he can't handle the boy any longer. So, with your consent of course, I'd like to take young Harry with me to "The Manor" for the rest of the holidays. All you need to do is sign at the dotted line."  
  
Astonished she watched how Vernon snatched the pen she offered without a second of hesitation and signed away his nephew to a strange woman without any credentials.  
  
"I'll pack his stuff!" Petunia beamed at her. "Maybe you'd be so good and tell him about … the situation yourself. We are not on speaking terms with him right now." She pointed upstairs. "It is the second door to the left."  
  
When Claire climbed the stairs, she overheard the Dursleys excitedly discuss the possibility of an impromptu holiday in Spain - "now that the problem with the boy is taken care of".  
  
She knocked at the door, and when nobody answered, counted to fifteen before she turned the knob. She remembered only too well how she had refused to talk to her parents when she had been Harry's age - a battle she had always lost. But then she had had nobody else to talk to, so all they'd had to do was wait.  
  
Harry lay on his bed, propped on a few mangled pillows, and read a battered magazine. He did not look up when Claire entered, only when she shyly cleared her throat.  
  
She had not been sure if he'd recognise her. Obviously Sirius or somebody had pointed her out to Harry. She could only dimly remember James Potter's face, but Sirius had told her that the boy had his mother Lily's eyes, so the unruly dark hair must be James'. And the scar was Voldemort's, she thought. The look he gave her was a fascinating mixture of surprise, displeasure and curiosity.  
  
"You?" Harry's voice trembled with suppressed fear. "Has anything happened to Sirius?"  
  
"No. No, he is alright," Claire hurriedly assured him. So he was still worried about his godfather, even though he was angry. She took it as a good sign.  
  
"May I sit down?" she asked.  
  
Harry shrugged. "If you like."  
  
Claire looked at the only chair that was half buried under a pile of clothes and books. For want of another place she sat down on the edge of the bed.  
  
"How come the Dursleys let you in? They despise witches."  
  
"I lied," Claire admitted and explained about the story she had made up for his relatives.  
  
Harry gazed at her incredulously. "But why?"  
  
"I want you to come with me, Harry." Claire folded her hands to resist the urge to pull a strand out of the tight bun. "They signed this document that puts you in my guardianship for the summer."  
  
"But why?" the boy insisted.  
  
"The quarrel between you and Sirius is so ridiculous," Claire sighed. "He misses you, and I am sure you miss him as well."  
  
"He does not miss me. He got a wife now," Harry gave her an odd look, "and maybe you'll have a baby soon. He'll have a family of his own, and he won't need me anymore."  
  
He did his best to keep his voice calm and unmoved, to appear grown up and reasonable, but Claire just needed to look into his eyes to see the lost child, and her heart went out to him. His assumption she might have a baby soon had taken her by surprise. But there was no way he could know about her pregnancy. She tried to find the right words, words that would not hurt his pride and at the same time assure him of Sirius' love.  
  
"Harry," she ventured. "Hasn't Sirius told you about the … special arrangement of our marriage?  
  
The boy avoided her eyes. "He said he'd marry you just to be married."  
  
"Right. Just to be married. He did not become my husband because he planed to be with me forever after. It is not as if we had a love affair or anything. In fact we had not seen each other since I was younger than you are now. He married me so we both could help Headmaster Dumbledore …"  
  
"But … how can you be married to somebody you don't love?" Harry blushed. "I mean, it … you … well, you do have two bedrooms I assume?"  
  
Now it was Claire's turn to blush, and her face burned with embarrassment. "I am sure Sirius will explain that to you. That is, if you come home with me."  
  
Harry drew in a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I … I am sorry … I don't even know how to call you."  
  
"Claire. You can call me Claire."  
  
"I can't just go to him, Claire," admitted Harry and hugged his knees. Claire noticed he had had a growth spurt in the last month, he was thinner and paler than when she had seen him on the Quidditch pitch in Sirius' Animagus class.  
  
"I said things to him I am sorry for now. But I meant the when I said them. He'll be mad about me."  
  
"Sometimes we have to overcome our fear and just face what we are afraid of." Claire repeated what Snape had told her at the fair. She reached out and touched Harry's hand, and saw with a faint smile how he flinched. He was almost sixteen and still easily embarrassed by a woman's touch.  
  
Harry shook his head. "I am sorry."  
  
Claire stood up and straightened her pencil skirt. "Well, I guess I must accept that. But can I ask you for a favour?"  
  
He shrugged, secretly disappointed that she had given in so easily.  
  
"Would you take me to the train station and help me get onto the platform?"  
  
Harry frowned. "Onto the platform? Why would you need my help for that? You just walk through the barrier …"  
  
Claire gave him a sheepish smile. "I can't."  
  
"You can't?"  
  
"It is a magical barrier. And I am a squib."  
  
Now she had his full attention. His eyes widened. "Really? You can't do any magic?"  
  
"Nothing. I am as bad as any Muggle." She sat down on the bed again, casually as if she was ready to leave any moment. "But of course I grew up in the wizarding world. Believe me, it can be as embarrassing as being a wizard in the Muggle world."  
  
Fascinated Harry started to ask her questions. Then he suddenly paused. "Do people know? I mean, does Sirius know?"  
  
Claire smirked. "Until I married him, nobody knew what I was but Headmaster Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. Now Remus knows. And Severus. And Laurel and Serene. It is not really a secret anymore, I assume."  
  
"Snape?"  
  
"He took it very well," Claire assured him and remembered how the Potions master had exploded when he first heard that their new spy was a squib. "Considering he is Snape and all that …"  
  
"And now you tell me …", he said softly, his green eyes boring into hers. "And you come to London, disguised as … some kind of evil Headmistress."  
  
She smiled wearily. "Sometimes we have to do things we are afraid of."  
  
"But why?"  
  
Claire stood up and went to the pin-board on the wall above Harry's desk. The furniture in the boy's room reminded her of a jumble sale, as if Harry's relatives had given him all the pieces they considered too ugly for their own rooms. Which was probably just what they had done ... On the board stuck several magical pictures of waving smiling teenagers, classmates she assumed.  
  
"I knew Sirius in school, you know," she said softly and kept staring at the board. "Before my parents decided to keep the shame of the family at home. I was a second year in Hufflepuff, and Sirius was …" She sighed. "He was all a girl at that age could wish for. Tall, handsome, with beautiful eyes. Kind, funny, strong."  
  
"So you had a … ah, crush on him?"  
  
The chimes of a clock in the living room downstairs reminded Claire of the passing time. But she could not rush this.  
  
"A crush? No. Good Goddess, no! I hated him. He played tricks on me whenever he saw me, he called me names …"  
  
Harry chuckled. "That means he liked you, stupid!"  
  
Claire had to laugh. "Well, he hid that very well!" Then she got serious again. "The thing is, Harry, and this is just between you and me …"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"I love him." She blushed and stroked Hedwig through the bars of the owl's cage. "I love Sirius. And I know he misses you. If you love somebody you don't want them to be unhappy. That's why I beg you to come with me, home to Hogsmeade." She turned around reluctantly and found Harry staring at her as if she was an apparition out of thin air.  
  
Eventually he cleared his throat. "Wow."  
  
Claire just had to laugh when she saw the mixture of awe and horror in his face. "Sorry, about that, Harry," she apologised. "I don't know any guys your age, but this must have been embarrassing."  
  
"Ehm … no … yes." Harry took off his glasses and started polishing them.  
  
"Just promise me not to tell Sirius."  
  
He frowned, but then he nodded gravely. "I won't."  
  
Claire sighed. "I am afraid I must hurry. The train leaves at four o'clock, and if you'd be so friendly to help me through to the platform I …"  
  
"I only have to pack Hedwig and my school stuff. It is in the under the stairs."  
  
"Your stuff?" Claire's face lit up. "You are coming home with me?"  
  
"To your house, yes. I am still not sure Sirius wants me there, but maybe you'll let me stay for the rest of the summer. I won't be any trouble, I can take care of myself and …"  
  
"Oh rubbish! Sirius will be overjoyed to see you! And when I said home, Harry, I meant it. Stay as long as you like. You'll always be welcome in Winterstorm Manor. Even when …"  
  
Harry dumped the pile of clothes unceremoniously into the trunk he had pulled out from under the bed. "Even when what?"  
  
"Even when Sirius and I are not married anymore."  
  
The boy looked up, a startled expression on his face. "But you said … you said you love him."  
  
Claire lifted Hedwig's cage from the window sill and covered it with a silk scarf. Then she kneeled down next to Harry to help him pack his spell- books. "Remember what I told you about our marriage? Sirius will leave one day, and I have no right to hold him back. That's why I beg you again not to mention our little talk to him. Promise me that."  
  
Suddenly Harry seemed much older, more mature than could be expected from a boy his age. But then again, he had seen more terrible things than most wizards ever saw, Claire thought.  
  
"I promise." He held out a hand and she took it thankfully.  
  
Straightening, she frowned. "When we go downstairs, don't forget that I am Headmistress Winterstorm. I am really mean, and you are a remorseful student."  
  
He closed the trunk's lid with a thud and looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure you can do mean?"  
  
Claire checked her hair in the mirror and smoothed the collar of her stern blouse. "I'll do my best. The question is - can you do contrite?"  
  
* * *  
  
When they got off the train in Hogsmeade that evening, Claire saw Sirius' tall frame from afar. She had not told him that she'd go to London, so one of the elves must have. Serene and Laurel saw him approach as well and rather hastily bid their friend and Harry good-by before they left the station by broom to Hogwarts.  
  
Claire cleared her throat and smiled anxiously when she saw Sirius' stern face.  
  
"I was worried," he said instead of a greeting.  
  
She had to tilt her head back to look at him. "I should have told you. But it was to be a surprise." Her hand settled on his arm. It needed not more that that one touch to make him draw her into his arms and hold her.  
  
"I was worried," he repeated, "It is not safe for you to go to London on your own."  
  
"I did not go alone. There were three of us, Laurel and Serene went with me." Claire savoured the warmth and the scent of his body. She was tired from the long ride and all she wanted right now was being lifted and carried home. But this was not her evening, she knew that. This was Harry's.  
  
Gently pushing against Sirius' chest, she stepped away from him. "On the ride back there were four of us."  
  
"Four?" He frowned. "I thought you said ..." His voice suddenly shook when he recognised Harry who was still struggling to levitate his trunk out of the train.  
  
Claire watched Sirius' face change from surprise to joy to guarded calmness.  
  
"You know he is only safe in the house of his guardian," he reminded Claire, never letting Harry out of his eyes.  
  
Harry approached, the trunk, with Hedwig's cage on top, following him like a clumsy pet. "Uncle Dursley signed his guardianship away for the rest of the summer," he explained awkwardly. Both wizard and boy stared at each other, neither sure what to say, how to make up for the bitter words that had fallen last time they met.  
  
Claire sighed. Men! They were so difficult - and yet so adorable ...  
  
"You know what?" She smiled at them both and nudged Sirius closer to Harry. "Why don't you two guys grab your brooms and play a fast round of Quidditch, while I go home and make sure the elves have prepared a bedroom for Harry?"  
  
Of course they had, she thought in mild amusement. Her presence was rather needed to make sure they had not gilded the boy's bed ... After all young Harry was a star, and the Winterstorm staff would certainly treat him according to his fame in the elf-world.  
  
Harry nodded, still avoiding Sirius' eyes, and changed the spell on the trunk from following to finding its own way to Winterstorm Manor.  
  
While the boy wrapped the safety-string off his broom, Sirius reached for Claire's hand. The look on his face made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. She saw the deep blue eyes unguarded for a moment, and what she recognised in them was joy, gratefulness and something else ... desire, need, longing. Then the moment was over, she watched him rebuild his careful facade of the wizard who could not be hurt. But for a heartbeat he had allowed her a glimpse into his very soul.  
  
Sirius raised her hand to his lips, and, gently kissing it, whispered so soft nobody but Claire would hear it: "Thank you."  
  
* * * 


	10. Give and Take

10. Give and Take  
  
  
  
Claire sat at the breakfast table and kept her eyes riveted to her plate. She did not dare to look up. She just could not stop beaming with joy when she watched Harry and Sirius.  
  
Just to see them return home, both covered in mud from an expedition into the Forbidden Forrest where Sirius had shown Harry a swamp-hole full with Floorooms ...  
  
"They look like giant mushrooms," described Harry, his mouth full with scrambled eggs. "Only that they are filled with Floo-powder. And if you touch them accidentally," her threw out his arms in a dramatic gesture: "Kaboom!"  
  
Sirius chuckled. "It glitters like tinsel. You should have come with us, Claire."  
  
She smiled and put down her fork. She had really wanted to come, but then she had decided that it was good for them to do things alone, without her. And to be honest, right now she was not too keen on strolling through the Forbidden Forrest at 6 am. After all that was usually the time when she threw up … She had to tell Poppy, she decided. The matron would know a potion that'd calm her stomach.  
  
"But aren't the … Flooroms dangerous to touch? I mean, with all the floo …"  
  
"I just got a tiny sprinkle of it on my skin, and that was enough to transport me right out of the swamp and up into a tree."  
  
"Sirius!" Claire gasped. "Are you crazy taking him there? Harry could have been injured!"  
  
Harry and Sirius found that tremendously funny.  
  
"Sirius …," Harry panted eventually, "Sirius flew out of the swamp as well!"  
  
"But I did not end up on a branch twenty meters over the ground!" his godfather snorted.  
  
"Yeah, you slammed right into the trunk like a wet rag."  
  
They doubled over laughing. Claire shook her head in amazement. This had to be some kind of male bonding ritual, getting hurt together and enjoying every minute. Or maybe it was a father-and-son-thing. Or rather godfather … Although since Harry's father was dead … Sirius was probably the person closest to a father Harry knew. So did fathers and sons play Quidditch till one of them dropped dead off the broom? She would not know. Her parents had been relatively old when she had been born, and Claire was their only child.  
  
Under the table she placed a hand over her her stomach. If the child was a boy … Then again, Sirius would probably not be here when the child was old enough to play Quidditch or hold a wand.  
  
And what if it had inherited her disability? What if her child was a squib? Claire's heart fluttered. She remembered the humiliation of endless wandwaving without producing any results, the silent desperation in her mothe'rs face and the grim determination in her father's. She'd been five when it became apparent that her children's wand was as useless as a twig in her hands, and that none of the magical appliances in the house reacted to her. The water taps, the music chest, the ice chamber - they all ignored the little girl. After she had accidentally got caught in the ice chamber and almost died from hypothermia, Sebastian Winterstorm hired Ygor Trollstone as his daughter's bodyguard.  
  
The troll, who even towered over grown wizards, had taken to the little girl the moment they met for the first time. He had not only guarded her, but became her confidant and friend. Like the older brother she did not have, and in a way like a father, younger than her own. But they had never played Quidditch, she regretted. Not because she was a girl - some of the most famous Quidditch players were female after all. But she could not fly a broom, and Ygor was too heavy to fly the tame model her father kept in the broom shed.  
  
"Claire?"  
  
Sirius' voice guided her back into the present. He touched her hand gently. "Are you still dreaming?"  
  
She smiled faintly. "No, I was just reminiscing. So, what are you up to today?"  
  
"I promised Coco to fix the magical faucet in the kitchen."  
  
"And you, Harry?"  
  
The boy frowned. "I guess I should start to go over my books. It is the same every summer, when it gets close to my birthday, I feel as if the holidays are as good as over."  
  
"Your birthday!" Claire slapped her forehead. "Oh Harry, I almost forgot your birthday."  
  
He shook his head. "Don't worry, Claire. I am not a child anymore. I don't need a cake or anything."  
  
"Well, ok. If you say so." She pushed back her plate in mock indifference. No cake! Coco would blow up when Claire told her that Mr. Harry Potter did not need a birthday cake. She knew that Sirius and Remus planed a special surprise for Harry, and she had made her own preparations. So when the boy turned sixteen the day after tomorrow he'd get the cake and the party, whether he wanted it or not.  
  
"What about tomorrow?" she asked. "You know we are invited for dinner with … with business acquaintances of mine. We can't take you with us …"  
  
Sirius coughed and almost spit his tea all over the table. The thought alone! To take Harry Potter to a Death Eaters' meeting! Although it was not really a Death Eaters event … The invitation had been signed by Narcissa Malfoy, and since Narcissa apparently was not involved in her husbands nefarious affairs, it promised to be a "normal" dinner party. Still, there was no way Harry could accompany them.  
  
"I guess I could ask Hagrid if I may spend the evening with him," Harry suggested  
  
"Remus would keep you company, but he's away tomorrow and won't return in time."  
  
"Don't you worry!" Harry smiled at Claire. "I am not a baby. I am well able to survive for an evening on my own."  
  
"I'd really rather have you stay with Hagrid until we return.. I have to go and see Poppy today, and when you and Sirius fly to the castle to pick me up at lunch-time, you could ask Hagrid."  
  
"Are you not feeling well?" Sirius studied her face.  
  
Claire blushed and hid her face by busily sorting letters and papers into two piles for the morning owl flight. "I am fine. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Why do you need to see Poppy then?" He would not let it go so easily.  
  
"She is teaching me, remember? Med school for squibs …" She shrugged. "I need so much to learn if I want to develop the only talent the gods have provide me with."  
  
Sirius pushed his chair back and stepped behind her. Bending down, he kissed the spot where her collar met the bare skin. "Healing is not the only talent you got, Ms. White," he murmured into her ear. "You are a shrewd business woman, you are compassionate …" He turned her around and, ignoring Harry who did his best not to look at his godfather, he kissed her on the lips. "Did I mention that you are good in bed as well?" His voice was so low it sent a tickle down her spine.  
  
"Not that I don't appreciate that healing thing you do …"  
  
Claire looked up, her eyes soft and dreaming. "Hm … what? Healing, yes. Are you injured?"  
  
He chuckled and kissed the crown of her head. "I'll live. But Harry suffered a bad scratch on his arm, and I don't want it to become inflamed."  
  
"Let me have a look at it."  
  
Claire reached for Harry's arm, but the boy jerked away.  
  
"Oh no! You are not going to put that potion on me!"  
  
"Potion? What potion?"  
  
"Madam Pomfrey's "SVSW"."  
  
Sirius grinned. "Smells vile …"  
  
"Stings worse," Harry finished the sentence and held a hand over the deep scratch on his forearm. "Why don't we just leave it alone, and let it mend by itself."  
  
"Harry, don't behave like a baby!" Claire rose and looked at him, shaking her head in disbelieve. "I saw you falling off your broom yesterday, and you did not even wince. And now you tell me you are afraid of some harmless disinfectant solution?"  
  
Sirius perched on the window sill, arms crossed, watching the scene with obvious pleasure. "I take it you have never been injured while in Hogwarts, Princess," he drawled.  
  
"No," she said and arched her eyebrows meaningfully. "Ygor took good care of me. Although one time I suffered lots of scratches when I got lot on the school grounds at night …"  
  
Sirius's face fell and the light died in his eyes. "I am sorry about that. You know I did not mean to …"  
  
"I am joking, you oaf," she smiled. "But you are right, I've never been to the Hospital wing when I was a student. The matron then was …"  
  
"Madame Dunant. Jamie called her the Dragon-lady. By Merlin's beard, that witch breathed fire and ate little Gryffindors for breakfast."  
  
"Did she use SVSW?" Harry had let go off his arm when Sirius mentioned his father. "Did Dad have to go there a lot?"  
  
"Your dad broke half of his bones in Quidditch practise. And Remus … well, you know, he used to almost scratch his skin off before the Wolfsbane potion was invented. He spent the days after each full moon in the Hospital wing."  
  
Claire had silently stepped closer to Harry and touched his arm, very carefully, with a soothing, stroking gesture. The boy looked at her in amazement, then down his arm, where the scratches paled and disappeared.  
  
"How … I thought you were a squib."  
  
She shrugged. "But I am. I can't even ride a broom. Ask your godfather."  
  
Sirius nodded. "She really is a squib, Harry. But she can heal nonetheless."  
  
"I guess, some wizards would gladly give up all magic for your talent," Harry mused. "The doctor who treats Neville's parents, for instance."  
  
"I can't do miracles, can't heal cancer or other serious illnesses. Sometimes I am able to calm others or to take away the pain, but usually I just set bones or mend skin. I couldn't do anything for the prisoners of St. Mango's."  
  
"The prisoners?" Sirius frowned.  
  
"That's how the doctor called the patients in the ward where Prenner is. Remember when you ….," she coughed, "when you did not feel well?"  
  
His eyes darkened. "I remember the doctor. He came to Hogwarts when Snape …" He turned to Harry. "You saved Snape's life then, didn't you? So you are some kind of healer as well."  
  
Harry snorted. "Hardly. All I did was coax the snake venom to leave his body. But I could not mend a broken nail if my life depended on it."  
  
"I am good at mending nails," Claire grinned and showed him her perfect finger-nails. "And I cured Professor Vector's wand elbow last week."  
  
"Good. Maybe that will improve his mood next term."  
  
Claire checked Harry's arm again and gave him a contented slap. "Off you go. As good as new."  
  
"Can I send all my friends to you now instead of Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
"No you can't." Sirius scowled. "Poppy will have her reasons to threaten you with SVSW. And we don't want to undermine her strategies."  
  
* * *  
  
At lunchtime Sirius and Harry picked Claire up at the stairs of Hogwarts castle, both grinning like madmen.  
  
She crossed her arms and looked at them gravely. "What?"  
  
Sirius smirked. "Nothing."  
  
"Come on, Sirius. I am not dumb. I can see something is going on, and from your faces I deduct it is something that won't make me happy at all."  
  
"Hagrid got Sirius' old motorcycle!" Harry blurted out excitedly. "And if we replace a few odd parts, it will be as good as new!"  
  
"His what? Claire remembered faintly reading about Sirius being involved in a motorcycle-accident many years ago.  
  
"Motorcycle. It is actually a Muggle artefact, and Hagrid should have got rid of it, but ... well, you know him."  
  
"Oh yes, I know Hagrid!" Claire bit her tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Hagrid who tried so hard to go by the rules ... If only the rules tried to go by Hagrid. Dragons, beasts, unlicensed magic - everything he liked, was illegal or outright forbidden.. "Just tell me one thing: Is it dangerous?"  
  
"Noooo!" Both Sirius and Harry starred at her with wide open eyes. Their blank faces told of the contrary just as well as a signed confession.  
  
"Right. But don't come to my and whine if you fall off the motor .... the thing!"  
  
She let Sirius draw her on his broom and snuggled into his arms. Could it be that her first broom-ride was only a few weeks ago? She remembered only too well how awkward she had felt with Sirius so close to her, how her body - even then - had known about her true feelings way before her heart had admitted it.  
  
At home she hopped off the broomstick before Sirius could set her down, and nodded at her husband and Harry.  
  
"I bet you're hungry, but it'll take a while to fix lunch. Put away the brooms, wash your hands, take your time and let me ..." she frowned and sighed, "cook."  
  
When they entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later, they found Claire, white apron over her robes, raiding the ice-chamber. "Sorry, but it is Saturday. I forgot, it is the elves' hour off."  
  
"Poor things," Sirius grinned, and she hit him playfully with a tea towel.  
  
"They hate it," he explained softly to Harry, while Claire started to prepare a pile of sandwiches. "She forces them to take time off every Saturday. At first I guess it was the whole afternoon, but the wailing and whining was more than anybody could bear. Now it is just an hour."  
  
Opening the door to the elves' common room a gap, he let Harry have a glimpse at a dozen elves, sitting on tiny chairs, an expression of utter misery on the little faces.  
  
"Wow, she is really into S.P.E.W.," muttered Harry when he saw Coco and Peagreen, with tears in their big bulging eyes.  
  
"Into it?" Sirius snorted. "She is the Queen of S.P.E.W.! Just wait until you see the school she built for the children. Hermione Granger will just love this!"  
  
He checked the hourglass by the sink. "It is almost over. Which is good, since Claire couldn't cook if her life depended on it!" he whispered, only to duck and cover when a tomato missed his head by inches.  
  
"I heard that, Mr. I-am-so-good-with-my-hands! Care to fix your own sandwiches?"  
  
Sirius took up the challenge, and when the elves left their confinement, they found their mistress, her Sirius and Mr. Harry Potter at the kitchen table, happily munching strange looking but obviously tasty sandwiches.  
  
* * *  
  
The Malfoy Mansion was brightly lit and the doors opened festively. Narcissa Malfoy awaited them at the door, dressed in an immaculate robe of silvery silk. She was as lovely as a beautifully crafted statue, thought Claire. The pictures in the Daily Prophet did her no justice at all.  
  
Malfoy's wife smiled but the smile did not reach her eyes. "Mrs. White, Professor White, so glad you could come."  
  
She led them into the salon, where Lucius entertained a small group of people, Claire remembered from her first party. Thankfully none of them had been witness to the humiliating scene with Prenner. Just thinking about it made her stomach clench.  
  
Lucius kissed Claire's hand, a disturbing habit she'd hardly ever get used to, and gave Sirius a short nod of acknowledgement.  
  
"And this," he presented a sulky yet handsome boy to them, "is Draco."  
  
Draco studied Claire's face for a moment before he greeted Sirius. "Professor White. I did not know you were an acquaintance of my father's."  
  
  
  
What followed was a perfectly normal dinner party - or what Claire supposed was perfectly norma,l since she had never been to a dinner party. Lucius made an effort to not talk about politics, and engaged Claire in a conversation that covered anything from export laws to rare books. Meanwhile Sirius, Draco and a wizard who had been introduced to Claire as McNair, discussed sports, broom models and the probabilility that the dragon which had been sighted near Nottingham had been a real one, not just a Muggle chimera.  
  
Narcissa seemed content to just sit and listen and direct the serving elves. Claire noticed both how perfectly smooth everything went and how the elves kept their eyes riveted to the floor, as if they were scared to look up and face their mistress.  
  
After dinner, when Draco had been excused by his father and had left the grown-ups, the dinner party split up in several groups. Narcissa, still the perfect hostess, offered to show Claire some of the paintings and arts treasure, and Claire did not have the heart to admit that Lucius had given her the same tour only a few weeks ago. Eventually they ended up in a small comfortable salon where a timid elf served chilled champagne.  
  
Narcissa sat down and started to ask Claire questions about her young marriage and her husband's occupation as a professor in Hogwarts.  
  
"Draco speaks of him with high respect … which I find rare. He doesn't like it there, I am afraid. We used to have a very close relation to his head of house, until lately. Draco took it badly when Lucius and Severus ended their friendship."  
  
"Did they?" Claire tried to keep the conversation on a gossiping level, always hoping Narcissa would let slop more information than she'd intended. "What happened? I really don't have much contact to the staff, you must know. Severus is the scary one, isn't he?"  
  
Narcissa held a hand over her mouth to stifle a laughter. "Scary. Yes, that's Severus. They have been friends for more than fifteen years, and then Lucius decides he won't talk to him any more … with no apparent reason. Men! I really don't understand them!"  
  
"Me neither." Claire said compassionately. Although - of course she understood why Lucius would severe all ties with a former Death Eater who had betrayed their master …  
  
"Sirius," Narcissa mused. "That's a rather unusual name, isn't it?"  
  
Claire pretended to admire a painting of the Malfoy family with infant Draco. "I don't think it's that rare," she replied casually. "I know several Siriuses. I even went to school with one."  
  
"But so did I!" Narcissa said. "Did you attend Hogwarts? I can't remember you."  
  
"I was there, if only for two years. Then my parents had me transferred to Beauxbatons. But I remember Sirius ... Black. Wasn't he the one who escaped from Azkaban?"  
  
Narcissa nodded. Her eyes softened. "He was quite remarkable. I don't know if you recognised then how handsome he was. You must have been some years younger than Sirius and I."  
  
"I remember well that every girl had a crush on him." Claire smiled faintly. "He was very popular."  
  
"Yes, he was. Slytherins, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs - no matter what house, every girl wanted Sirius." Narcissa's lovely cold face warmed considerably. "I dated him for a few days in my seventh year, you must know."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Just to make Lucius jealous, of course. Sirius knew that all I ever wanted was to marry Lucius, who did not even know I existed. But Sirius played his part well. Very well, since Lucius threatened to challenge him to a duell after only 10 days. " She giggled, and the mere sound proved that the young girl still existed behind the sophisticated facade. "Oh, you could always trust in Sirius to help a damsel in distress."  
  
"That sounds very chivalrously. Claire sat down and played with her champagne glass. "In my - admittedly dim - memory he was rather rough, always teasing me."  
  
"Then you were probably one of those strong, independent Gryffindors," said Narcissa earnestly.  
  
Hiding her surprise, Claire took a sip of champagne. "What makes you think so?"  
  
"Sirius only ever dated girls with a fault. And he only teased those who were strong enough to handle it."  
  
"A fault?"  
  
Narcissa lowered her voice. "It was so obvious that he dated girls to do them a favour. Looking back, it could have been humiliating, but he never gave you that feeling. When Helen Sthoughton's lost their fortune in her fifth year, he went out with her until she got to grips with it. And then there was the girl from Russia who didn't speak any English. The Ravenclaw who was so shy she'd never looked at anybody. He dated me, because I was almost out of my mind with love-sickness over Lucius. And he had a blind girlfriend for a few months in his sixth year."  
  
And now he got a wife who is a squib, thought Claire, and the thought left her numb and freezing.  
  
"As soon as he found I was feeling better, he ended it. Very gently though. It was always the girl who had the impression, she'd just ended the relationship. None of us ever felt dumped by Sirius. And no matter what he's done ever since, and what people say about him, I am still grateful for his support."  
  
"But now you got Lucius, and of course you got Draco. He seems to be exceptionally bright. You must be very proud about him."  
  
Narcissa beamed in unveiled love and motherly pride. "We both are. I don't know if Lucius or I would ever get over it if anything happened to Draco."  
  
"But ... with your husband's political ..." Claire fixed a hair-strand and thought feverishly how to place that Lucius' activities endangered Draco as well as Narcissa, "Draco is of course very young ... but one day ..."  
  
It was as if a shutter went down. Narcissa's face turned into the cool mask she showed the public. "Lucius knows very well what is best for our son. I trust him completely." Her eyes narrowed. "You don't have any children, so you have no idea how parents desire only the best for their children. One day Draco will take the powerful position a Malfoy deserves."  
  
Lucius entered the salon and ushered them back into the library. "I have something to show you," he announced proudly.  
  
Narcissa frowned. "Lucius, you promised to spare us politics tonight."  
  
He went to her and patted her shoulder like he'd calm a favourite pet. "I know, I know. But this is important for Claire to see. It just arrived by special delivery."  
  
In the library they saw a silver box sitting on a table, secured by two magical cords. Sirius, Mavis Lawrence and McNair stood by the fire, discussing Quidditch agitatedly.  
  
"Quidditch!" groaned Malfoy and shook his head. "One should assume people lose interest in brooms and bludgers once they see where power and purpose can take them."  
  
Sirius gave him a big grin and drawled: "What could be more important than Quidditch, old boy?"  
  
Malfoy scowled at him, but obviously did not deem him worthy a reply. He undid the cords on the box with his wand, and the magical bind snapped with a sprinkle of greenish flashes. In the box Claire could see three rows of small glass vials, each filled with red liquid, each carefully labled with dates and numbers.  
  
"Well, Malfoy," she asked curiously, "what is so special about this?"  
  
"This is where the money went. The money you so generously contributed to the cause."  
  
"To this?" Claire bowed deeper over the vials. "They don't look very expensive to me."  
  
"You must take my word on it. Each of them is worth its weight in gold. They are more expensive than Veritaserum."  
  
"I see. But you did not answer my question, Malfoy. What is it?"  
  
Malfoy took one of the vials out of its holder and passed it to her. "This will ensure the Master's recovery to full strength. It is what he needs to ..." He almost leaped at Sirius when he took the vial out of Claire's hand. "Don't drop it, for Salazar's sake!"  
  
Sirius, unimpressed by Malfoy's sudden panic, gave the vial a shake, held it to his ear and shrugged disappointedly. "I thought it might blow up or something spectacular," he drawled.  
  
"Give it to me!" Exasperatedly Malfoy snatched the vial out of his guest's hand. He put it back safely into its place and shut the box again.  
  
"Why don't we take the coffee on the terrace," Narcissa suggested and shot her husband an annoyed glance. "It is such a lovely night."  
  
  
  
"Why is it that I always feel I need a shower after we meet Malfoy?"  
  
Claire wiped the hand, Malfoy had kissed, at her robes.  
  
"These people are scum." Sirius picked her up and carried her to up the stairs of Winterstorm Manor, ignoring her protests. "No wonder you feel dirty."  
  
When they entered the circle of light that fell through the window over the door, she saw that he smiled. "Care to share that shower?"  
  
"I thought you'd never ask," she chuckled and gently nibbled at his earlobe. "The shower afterwards is really the only part of these meetings I truly enjoy."  
  
"Hm," he mused. "I do like the way these woman undress me with their eyes. And I just love it when Malfoy treats me like a walking, talking turnip."  
  
Claire ruffled his hair while he carried her upstairs. "Poor baby. He really is not too fond of you. While Narcissa …"  
  
"You and Narcissa talked about me?"  
  
She watched his face with scrutiny, but saw nothing than mild curiosity. "Not exactly. We talked about Sirius Black. You know, the murderer."  
  
"Narcissa and I dated for a while in our seventh year. For about a week, if I remember correctly."  
  
"Ten days." Claire smiled. "She was quite impressed when you escaped from Azkaban."  
  
Sirius snorted. "I bet she was. She always had a soft spot for wizards with high criminal energy." He set Claire down on the bathroom floor and pointed his wand at the faucet. Hot water started to gush into the tub and within minutes the bathroom filled with mist.  
  
"Sirius, sometimes I wonder if what we do is of any use to Albus. All we do is chat to people we don't like. The bit of information we gather … do you think it is worth the risk of having somebody find out who you really are?"  
  
He stepped behind her, embraced her and looked into the misted mirror where he met her eyes. "Every risk is worth the victory of the light over Voldemort's darkness. I got a taste of that darkness when I sat in Azkaban and thought I'd die there." His hands clenched to fists for a moment. "One day I'll make Peter pay for the lost years."  
  
His hands wandered down Claire's arms and cupped her breasts. A hot wave of guilt made her blush, but the steam hid her face from Sirius. Poppy had laughed glady when Claire confessed the pregnancy, and had even more laughed when she heard her request for silence. "Dear girl, a baby is growing in you! How do you think you can hide that from the wizard who shares your bed? Sirius Black is neither blind nor stupid. Of course you can lie to him for two, maybe three months. But he won't be pleased when he finds you tried to decieve him. And for Merlin's sake, why should you? I can't think of a wizard who'd be more pleased about a kid than Sirius." Eventually she had agreed to let Claire find the right moment to tell Sirius but had warned her once more not to keep the truth from Sirius for too long.  
  
And now Claire felt guilty whenever he touched her. Could he teel that her body was changing?  
  
"Today we gathered more than just information," Sirius said, oblivious to her musing. He reached into the wide sleeve of his robe and produced a small vial filled with dark-red liquid.  
  
Claire stared at the glass tube. "How did you ..."  
  
He smirked and placed the vial carefully on a towel on the counter. "Minerva McGonagall always said I had a special talent for transfiguration. Malfoy will sorely miss the queen of his chess set next time he plays."  
  
"But ... They will discover it when they want to use the content of the vial." Claire still could not believe he'd actually managed to steal the vial right from under Malfoy's eyes.  
  
"I took the one that was in the back of the case, the one with the newest date. Hopefully it will take some time until that vial will be used and transfigure back into red marble. By then it shouldl be difficult to trace who had access to the case."  
  
"What do you think is in it?" Claire held the vial against the light. "It looks like blood."  
  
Sirius shrugged. "Snape will be happy to analyse it once he's back from his holidays.. What was it Malfoy said? It is something the Dark Lord's needs ... "  
  
"We'll find out. And if we are lucky, we can withhold it from him."  
  
"Right." He took her shoulders and turned her around so she faced him. "But for now, lets care not about Voldemort's but our own needs."  
  
* * * 


	11. The Second Gift

11. THE SECOND GIFT  
  
  
  
Claire sat at her desk and sighed in desperation. Never in the 18 years she had been involved in the Winterstorm businesses had there been such a mess in her bookkeeping and her papers. She had always prided herself in her discipline, but lately there had been so many better things to do than sign contracts and proof-read manuscripts - something she did sporadically, because she wanted to have an eye on what Winterstorm Publishing produced. Still, sitting in the sun and watching Sirius and Harry play Quidditch, or try on robes with Serene or discuss the Muggle world with Laurel, was so much better. Somehow the pile on her desk had grown into a mountain of parchment scrolls, and she had to at least mail off some of the manuscripts or the books wouldn't be in the stores in time for the beginning of the next term.  
  
Bravely she worked her way from the highest layer down, until she reached the desk. Now all she had to do was sort the drawers and prepare the parcels for the noon-owls. In the drawer she found mostly bills, a flyer she had picked up at the fair, and a pile of parchment sheets, covered in minuscule handwriting. Frowning she studied the first page, and recognised Sirius' stories. She smiled. He still told her stories, and - another thing she'd have to admit to him sooner or later - she still had the quill write down every word. Digging in the second drawer she found the collection of stories she had gathered over the course of the last weeks. Carefully she smoothed the parchment, and pondered where to store it so Sirius would not stumble over it before she told him. Eventually she wrapped and sealed it, wrote 'S. PADFOOT' and 'Prisoner syndrome?' as a cross reference on the envelope and put it on a shelf where she kept her quills and seal-wax.  
  
When the door opened she jumped guiltily.  
  
"Sirius!"  
  
He frowned. "Did I scare you?"  
  
She sat down at the now considerably less cluttered desk. "I just forgot the time with all the paperwork."  
  
"Remus sent me an owl. They'll arrive in fifteen minutes. The fireplace in your office is the only one connected to the Floo-network, is that right?"  
  
"Yes, my father used it to get to the stores. When it became obvious that I could not travel by Floo, he had all the fireplaces closed but this one."  
  
Sirius stepped behind her and started to rub her neck with soft, circular strokes. For a moment Claire closed her eyes, then she relaxed, almost melted under his touch. How had she lived without him? All the little things … The laughter. The sensations. The very presence of him.  
  
"Sirius," she said softly. "There is something we need to talk about."  
  
He kept stroking, caressing, let his hands wander to her cleavage. His silky mane brushed her face when he bent over her and kissed her temple.  
  
"I promise not to let Harry fly the motorcycle without me."  
  
"That's not what I meant. Although I'd rather you didn't ride that terrible thing either."  
  
"Well, if it is not about the motorcycle - what is so important then?"  
  
Claire reached for his hand and held it, while she searched for the right words.  
  
"Serene had a vision. A vision about you in Azkaban."  
  
Sirius laughed, a low amused laughter, that would have pleased Claire at any other time. But now she wanted him to take her seriously.  
  
"She saw you imprisoned in Azkaban! We have to talk to Headmaster Dumbledore about it, I think, and find a way to not let it happen."  
  
"I don't give a damn about Serene and her visions, baby. You should know that by now."  
  
"Laurel said that Serene's vision about Severus was dead right."  
  
He stepped around her and sat on the desk, so he could see her face. Taking her hands and putting them on his knees, he said emphatically, "Claire, I don't believe in divinations. Remember, my mother was a clairvoyant or at least she claimed to be one. But if she'd really foreseen my father's death, it wouldn't have taken her by surprise so much when it happened. So whatever Serene thinks she saw, it was just an illusion. And probably born out of her disdain for me."  
  
"Sirius …"  
  
"No, listen to me now. Don't let her frighten you. It is just make- believe."  
  
Claire sighed and let her head rest on his thigh while he stroked her hair. "But she could describe it in detail. What it looked like, what you wore …"  
  
Sirius gently pushed back her chair and got up. Wandering to the window, he stared out into the garden, where the elves were busy setting up tables and chairs. They had sent Harry to Hogwarts to deliver a robe of Claire's to Serene, an errand that should keep him away from the Manor for long enough to prepare a birthday party. Hagrid had been invited, and Remus would bring three more guests.  
  
"Claire, I know that Serene was wrong," he sighed eventually.  
  
Claire stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him from behind, rubbing her cheek against his back. "How can you know that?"  
  
"Because there is no way they'll take me back to Azkaban alive."  
  
She tensed in shock. "You don't …"  
  
"I'd rather die than go back there. You don't know how it is, Claire. It is the worst place you can imagine. No living being should be convicted to this icy hell. So next time they won't get me alive."  
  
A deep rumbling sound in the fireplace made them turn, both shaky with emotion. Claire grasped Sirius' hand, not sure whether she needed support or wanted to support him.  
  
"That must be Remus." Sirius voice betrayed his inner tension. "I am sorry I spoiled this sunny morning with my .."  
  
"Don't!" She turned to him, almost violently. Her eyes flared up. "Don't you dare to apologise for sharing your feelings with me!"  
  
For a moment they remained like this, Claire like lightning, Sirius like rain. Then he drew her in his embrace, kissed her face, her lips, in desperate need of her affection.  
  
Claire answered his kisses, shyly at first, but then opening to the intensity of his tongue that explored her mouth. This was not just a kiss, she thought with the last bit of reason she could muster, this was a wordless plea.  
  
Suddenly she felt Sirius tense. The moment shattered.  
  
When she came up for air, she almost jumped. Green flames blazed in the fireplace, and right in the centre she saw four people, who only seconds later stumbled out into the office. Remus coughed and brushed soot off his sleeves.  
  
"You really need to get this fireplace cleaned," he frowned. "Or else you want have too many visitors, I am afraid."  
  
"I am so sorry!" Claire passed him a handkerchief. "It hasn't been in use since my father died two years ago."  
  
Remus wiped his face clean. "I was only joking, Claire. Now here I bring you the three visitors you requested." He introduced her to a red-haired boy and a girl she remembered from Sirius' Animagus class. "Ron and Hermione, they are both with Harry in Gryffindor. And this," he pushed forward a smaller, red-haired girl, "is Virginia, Ron's sister." The family likeness could not be denied. "I tried to get hold of the Longbottom boy, but he went to Bath with his grand-uncle."  
  
"Well," Claire beamed at them. "It is great you all could come. Just feel at home. Harry won't be here for another hour, so why don't you let Peagreen show you your rooms and the house, before the party starts?"  
  
Hermione, uncharacteristically tongue-tied, gaped at her.  
  
"It is you!" she breathed eventually.  
  
"Indeed, Miss Granger," Sirius said dryly. "It is her."  
  
"No … I mean …", Hermione stuttered. "This is Claire Winterstorm, the owner of Winterstorm Inc.!"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"But Professor, don't you know she has been named 'Business Witch of the Year' twice? She was on the cover of 'Galleons and Knuts' only this January!"  
  
"Is that so?" Sirius smiled at Claire who had blushed and resembled a beetroot right now. "So I married a celebrity?"  
  
"Oh rubbish," Claire murmured.  
  
"You published 'Brianna Smith's Diary'! It was hilarious, I gave it to my mum who is a Muggle and even she liked it!  
  
"You girls can discuss books later," decided Remus and ushered them all out of the office. "Right now lets get this birthday party going."  
  
* * *  
  
After blowing out sixteen candles on a gigantic high-towering cake, listening to a slightly off-tune version of 'Happy Birthday' and unwrapping the presents from his friends, even Harry had to agree that birthdays could be good. In fact this one was great, he decided, when he turned his attention to the last parcel, which stood on a side table, wrapped in plain brown paper.  
  
Remus and Sirius smirked when he tore the wrapping off and found a heavy earthenware bowl the size of a large tureen. Harry frowned.  
  
"Is this what I think it is?" he asked.  
  
Remus nodded. "A pensieve, yes. The smallest we could find."  
  
"What is a pensieve?" piped Ginny.  
  
"You can keep your memories in it," explained Harry and eyed the silvery surface of the bowl.  
  
"Like … in a diary?"  
  
"More so," said Remus, patient as always. "You literally extract your memories out of your brain and into the pensieve. And in a quiet hour you can take your time and look at them."  
  
Ginny stared at the pensieve. "This is …. memories? It looks like quicksilver," she said.  
  
"Harry knows how it works, don't you?" Sirius laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Remus and I thought we wanted to give you a memory of your parents. Mine is of your father winning the house cup for Gryffindor in our sixth year."  
  
"Mine is of Lily, telling us she was expecting a baby." Remus' voice trembled ever so lightly, and to Claire's great surprise Serene stepped behind him and slipped her hand into his for a moment, until he had regained his calm.  
  
"Why don't we all go for a walk in the park, while Harry tries out his present," Claire suggested cheerily. "And when you are done, Harry, I really think you should come and explain the offside rule to me."  
  
Sirius knew that Quidditch rules were a perpetual inside-joke between his godson and his wife, and saw with relief how Harry smiled. Giving a sixteen year old boy a memory of his long dead parents was not something he and Remus had done easily. First, he would miss the memory of James making that one final pass. Second, they did not know how Harry would react. But then again, the boy had a family and friends who would catch him if he crumbled.  
  
"Take your time," he said softly to Harry. "They are your memories now."  
  
  
  
Sirius sat down in the grass next to Remus, sighing contentedly, a mug of Butterbeer in his hand, and enjoyed the sunset.  
  
"Ah Moony, have we ever been like them? So … carefree? So young?".  
  
His friend shrugged.  
  
"I can't remember. But Harry is not carefree most of the times. You know that as well as I do. He carries that black cloud of doom wherever he goes, and as hard as he tries to be a normal teenager, as long as Voldemort exists, days like today will be an exception for him."  
  
"Claire did a great job," Sirius smiled and raised his mug in greeting when Ron and Hagrid soared over their heads on their brooms. Serene, Ginny and Hermione sat on garden chairs next to the cake table, Serene conjuring minuscule models of great robes she wished one could by at Gladrags. Everybody seemed to have a good time. "She is so unaware of it, but she attracts all the loners, all the strays, and makes them feel welcome." He set the mug aside and crossed his arms behind his head.  
  
"Are you happy, Padfoot?" Remus asked softly, looking intently at Sirius.  
  
Sirius turned his head and the expression on his face took his friend by surprise. Desperate desire, almost palpable need …  
  
"This is all I ever wanted," Sirius admitted, and Remus could see it cost him dearly. "A wife, a child. A family of my own." He watched Harry and Claire laughing, Harry using two spoons to demonstrate the Tcherkessow defence, and Claire shaking her head in mirth. "I wish they were mine."  
  
Remus sighed in emphaty. He had seen it coming, had watched his friend lose his heart step by step. "Harry may not be your child but he is your god- son. And with Claire it won't need more than a word from you to make her truly yours," he suggested. "She is in love with you, even a blind wizard can see that."  
  
Sirius froze. "Claire needs freedom," he said stiffly. "She grew up in a prison, Remus, and all she does - this marriage, the mission - serves only one goal. To be free. How could I tie her to me?"  
  
"So she wants to be free and you want to be loved?" Remus' face did not show the deep pain he felt. "Welcome to the club, my friend."  
  
He got up and wiped grass and brushed off his robes. "I'll get me another of these strawberry cakes. Want one?"  
  
Sirius smirked. "You are only looking for an excuse to talk to Serene. Remus, she really isn't good for you. I have never seen you as unhappy as you are now. Find another girl, and forget about her."  
  
Lupin raised an eyebrow, but swallowed his initial reaction and just shook his head.  
  
"I want to talk to her. I need to. We'll probably start fighting before I finish my first sentence but if I don't hear her voice …"  
  
"But that's ridiculous, Remus! She is just a witch. She's pretty, I give you that. But obviously she is completely out of her mind."  
  
"Get lost, Black." Remus' voice shook and Sirius winced when he recognised he had said too much. "I only hope Claire breaks your heart, so you get an idea of what you are talking about."  
  
"Moony, I am sorry."  
  
Lupin only shrugged and left. Sirius hugged his knees and let his head sink rest on them. Remus was so smart, knew so much about the human condition - why didn't he see that Serene was not interested in what he had to offer?  
  
Claire wandered over the lawn to the shadowy spot where Sirius sat. Suddenly daring, she kneeled down and caressed his bare neck.  
  
"What's wrong with Lupin?"  
  
Sirius almost purred with pleasure when she started to massage his shoulders. "Serene is what's wrong. He got it in his stubborn head that he is in love with her, and so he suffers whenever she kicks him. Which she seems to do whenever he gets close."  
  
Claire peaked over to the cake-table where Remus and Serene stood, talking without looking at each other. "You are too hard on Serene. She hurts him, that's true, but I can see she suffers as well. I think she really loves him, but for some reason she tries to scare him away. And since he doesn't budge, she keeps hurting him."  
  
"Well, I think she is a conceited cruel bitch who takes great pleasure in yanking Remus' chain."  
  
Claire's hands ceased their movements.  
  
"Sirius!" she scolded. "She is not a bitch and she is not … She may appear cruel, but she loves him. I just know it."  
  
He turned his head so he could see her face.  
  
"And what would you know about love, Claire?" he asked softy.  
  
The very moment he heard his words and saw the hurt in her eyes, he desperately wished he could take it back. And yet, he felt so confused about his own emotions … He needed to reassure himself that this marriage was a safe arrangement, one that would not endanger the defences he had built up over the years. He needed to know that it was friendship, nothing else, that bound him to Claire and that he would be able to leave her when the mission was over, without his or her heart breaking …  
  
"What do I know about love?" she repeated his question. "What would you say if I told you that I love you, Sirius?"  
  
He paled. For a moment his heart ceased to beat and when it came alive again, it raced so fast he could hear it thunder in his ears.  
  
"I told you not to."  
  
"Love isn't anything you can permit or forbid."  
  
"It is just imagination, Claire." He cupped her chin and made her look at him. What he had dreaded, was there. She really fancied herself in love with him.  
  
"Claire, don't you see that this is just a natural reaction? You are not used to male company, and we spend so much time together. We go through dangerous situations together, we share a bed. No wonder, you confuse comradeship with love."  
  
She held her head very straight, a posture that reminded him very much of the little Hufflepuff girl who had made him feel like a complete fool whenever he teased her. "I am not your comrade," she said with dignity.  
  
"Baby, I am the first wizard you ever kissed. The first you ever had sex with. You've never had a chance to compare."  
  
Claire's eyes flashed with anger when she got up from her knees very abruptly. Without another word to Sirius she strode over the lawn, her fists clenched, her blue robe billowing.  
  
When she reached Remus and Serene, she grabbed the wizard at the shoulders, turned him around so he faced her and kissed him right on the lips. The kiss was … pleasant. Remus' lips were warm and soft, but she did not feel the blood rushing in her ears like with Sirius. Her heartbeat was steady and calm. Almost disappointed she stepped back, and blushed violently when she saw the confusion in Remus' eyes.  
  
"What … what was that for?"  
  
Claire stammered an apology, but a side glance at Serene's furious face made her voice falter. If she'd needed proof that Serene felt something for Remus - now here it was. The red-haired witch stared at her as if she'd transform her into a toad any minute.  
  
"Nothing. Forget it," she whispered and almost ran back to Sirius, who also stared at her with an expression she could not read.  
  
"Well, I kissed another man, "she snapped. "I can compare kisses now. His was nice. Yours are better."  
  
A sudden thunder in the air interrupted her. A lightning bolt criss-crossed the sky. Within minutes a summer storm broke loose, propelling napkins, leaves and one of Claire's books over the lawn. The elves hunted the book down, and saved the cake, but when warm rain started to pour down they gathered in the safety of the doorway and let napkins be napkins.  
  
"Kids, forget about the chairs and pillows!" Claire ushered Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione inside, out of the thriving rain. "They are soaking wet already. Up you go and get dry! Coco will be delighted to fix you some hot chocolate and cookies."  
  
Hagrid, who had been saving the motorcycle together with Sirius, moved carefully through the door, his hair and beard dripping all over the carpet. Claire urged him to take off the wet coat. "There is no way I'll let you fly home in this weather," she declared.  
  
"I guess I'll sleep quite well on you living room floor," Hagrid boomed.  
  
"Ygor's bed is still in the chamber behind the kitchen, it is," interfered Peagreen and beamed up at the huge wizard. "He is very big like you Mr. Rubeus."  
  
"And if it doesn't fit, there is always magic." Sirius had made it into the house as the last of the party and closed the door behind him. He shook his head and the water from his hair sprayed everybody.  
  
"Ah Padfoot, quit!" Remus scolded grinning. "Down boy!"  
  
Sirius laughed, glad his friend was not angry anymore, and bared his teeth, before he went upstairs after the kids to make sure the windows in the office were shut.  
  
Claire smiled when she saw the tiny Peagreen lead Hagrid to Ygor's chamber, and turned to Remus and Serene, who was wringing her wet mane, shivering with cold. It startled her when she saw the raw longing in Remus' eyes, looking at Serene. When he felt that Claire watched him, his face went blank and kind as always.  
  
She cleared her throat and addressed Serene, suddenly too shy to look at Lupin.  
  
"How about you and Remus? Care to share a room?"  
  
Claire winced and clasped a hand over her mouth. Why had she just said that? Serene's eyes flared up in anger and when she stormed up the stairs. Remus' eyes followed her unhappily.  
  
"That was uncalled for," he said softly.  
  
"Sorry. I am sorry," Claire sighed. "Of course there are enough rooms for everybody. Just pick one and the elves will provide you with a fire and towels and linen or whatever you need."  
  
He just nodded and went upstairs.  
  
Claire could have slapped herself. How could she have said something like that? Then again … a night of passion might be just what these two stubborn ignorants needed … Too bad she could not think of any way to lock them into a room and not let them out until the deed was done. Laurel had told her about how Dumbledore had hexed her and Severus into a chamber into the tower to make them understand they needed each other. Physically, yes, but hadn't it been like that with her and Sirius, too? She had learned to trust him with her body, and then she had begun to trust him with her heart …  
  
Her hand clasped the small crystal trinket she always wore. She'd go upstairs and find Sirius and make sure the trinket was visible. Very visible. Making sure the elves would not make another attempt to bring in furniture or plates, she turned off the magical light in the living room and opened her braid, so her hair fell in damp ringlets down her back.  
  
She paused on the first step. And then, calmer than she'd ever thought she'd be in this situation, she took off the chain and slipped into her pocket.  
  
  
  
She found Sirius in the bathroom where he dried his hair with a towel, another one wrapped dangerously low around his narrow hips. When he met Claire's eyes in the mirror, he gave her a big grin.  
  
"Good to know that I am not the only one who wishes they'd bitten their tongue off before they talked to Moony. I overheard …"  
  
The grin died with the words, and he turned around, dropping the towel he had used on his head.  
  
Claire stood there, open hair flowing down her back, face flushed with nervousness. She licked her upper lip with a quick flick of her tongue that did more to him than any bold touch.  
  
"I want you."  
  
Her voice was so soft he thought he had misheard her. His breath hitched in his throat when he watched her opening the fastening of her robe and letting the soft material slide to the bathroom floor.  
  
"I want you to … do the things you do."  
  
"Things?"  
  
He had gone all serious.  
  
She sighed. This was not easy. "I want you to kiss me all over. To hold me so close that I feel I am melding with you." The thin shift followed the robe. "I want your hands on me … and you in me."  
  
Naked, she closed the distance between them and took in the pleased surprise in his eyes - and the reaction her words had caused. To know she could do that to him, could make him hard with so little, filled her with joy and gratitude and self-assurance.  
  
Her finger drew a line down his chest, very carefully, almost painfully slow, and lower across his stomach until it reached the towel.  
  
"But first," her breath got faster, "I want you to do nothing."  
  
Sirius cleared his throat when her finger hooked into the towel and loosened it inch by inch.  
  
"Nothing?"  
  
She smiled, her mouth only a heartbeat away from his.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
Claire took her time. She had never really looked at him when he was naked. Of course she had touched him … there. But under the covers, not like now. Sirius moaned softly when she let a finger slide down his erection, and gasped in surprise when she wrapped her hand around him.  
  
"Did I hurt you?" She let go immediately. "Did I do anything wrong?"  
  
"Merlin, no. You are doing fine … just fine." He blinked when she took up her caresses again. "Just fine. Perfect."  
  
Claire trailed kisses down his chin, his throat, and never let go off him.  
  
"Sirius, your knees are shaking!" she chuckled. "Want to lay down?"  
  
He groaned, a sound of surrender.  
  
She moved him with little pushes against his back out of the bathroom, into the bedroom. But when he meant to get onto the bed, she shook her head.  
  
"The floor?"  
  
"In front of the fire, if you please."  
  
He felt … vulnerable, laying there, hard and throbbing for her touch, and his oh so shy wife kneeling next to him, studying his body like a piece of fine art.  
  
Then her mouth started to nibble at his collarbone, at the flat taunt stomach, and lower, until he clenched his fists into the carpet.  
  
"Is this really what you want?" he managed, the blood roaring in his ears. "To let me alone in this?"  
  
"No," she gasped and ceased her nibbling immediately. "No."  
  
Sliding her body over his like a soft silky sheet, she remained still for a moment. Then, rising and straddling him at the same time, she slowly took him into her. Sirius groaned. She was ready for him, wet and warm and welcoming.  
  
"Tell me how it feels," he demanded, his throat rough like shark skin.  
  
"As if something had been missing. And is now being replaced," she gasped. "As if I'd been alone and empty all my life, and now I was whole."  
  
He still lay there, letting her set the pace, although it became harder and harder to control the urge to move  
  
"And it feels like words can never be enough."  
  
Claire bowed down, cupping his face with both hands, and kissed him deeply, letting him feel what it really felt like.  
  
Satisfied she was experiencing the same pleasure he felt, Sirius took over, his hands trailing down her sides, cupping her breasts, stroking her hard nipples, until she closed her eyes in helpless exultation.  
  
He began to move, gliding in and out of her, stretching, pushing deeper with each stroke. He tilted her hips so he could thrust even deeper, as if he wanted to become one with her.  
  
Claire lost herself in the hard thrusts of his body, in the fiery heat that rose and engulfed all of her. She threw her head back, riding faster, her fingers entwined with his.  
  
With a low growl he rolled them over so he topped her, and his rhythm got faster, harder, his body beyond any pretence of control.  
  
Right then, for the fraction of a moment before her body took over and all rational thought surrendered to absolute bliss, Claire knew she loved him. And would do anything to make him love her, too.  
  
Then the world shattered and they both became one heartbeat.  
  
  
  
Later Sirius propped his head on the pillow and looked at her with an expression she had never seen before. Wonderment.  
  
She liked that look.  
  
"If you ever came to me … like you just did, he pressed a kiss onto her temple and sighed contentedly when she slipped into her favourite position, head in the crook of his shoulder, half wrapped around him. "I promised to grant you a wish, if you ever found the courage to tell me you wanted me."  
  
"A wish?"  
  
"Whatever you want."  
  
"You are taking a serious risk with that, you know? What if I wanted you to jump off the North Tower?"  
  
He chuckled. "I'd jump. Then I'd be dead and you'd be all alone in your big four-poster and you'd be sorry."  
  
"Would I?"  
  
His hand slipped in between their bodies, teasing, demanding and delivering at the same time.  
  
Claire moaned softly. "Alright, I'd miss you. I … would miss you … very much."  
  
"So you better think it over before you call in my debt." He grinned satisfied, utterly relaxed and at ease.  
  
Claire tensed for a moment, her mouth pressed again his neck, her breath coming in great ragged gasps.  
  
"I will. I promise, I will."  
  
When her heartbeat had calmed to its normal pace, Sirius' finger trailed her forehead.  
  
"Promise me one more thing."  
  
"Oh Sirius, not again. I can't promise I won't fall in love with you." She hid her face in his dark hair. "I am afraid it is too late for that."  
  
Sirius sighed and stared into the darkness of the bedroom. What was he to do? How had he diverted the feelings of all those girls in school he had dated but had never been really interested in? Sooner or later he'd have to find a way to make Claire see that he was no good for her. To make her leave him, and be glad about it. But until then …  
  
"Promise me you won't kiss another wizard while we are married."  
  
"But you told me to! Remember?"  
  
He winced. "I know. I wish I could take my words back, but I can't. So just promise me it won't happen again."  
  
Claire propped her head on one arm. It was too dark to see his face clearly, so she laid a hand over it to feel if he smiled. But he seemed to be utterly serious.  
  
"Why?" she asked and tried desperately to keep her voice calm.  
  
His answer took so much time that she almost thought he'd fallen asleep, and when he talked it sounded genuinely surprised.  
  
"Because I did not like it. I did not like it at all."  
  
* * * 


	12. The Prisoner's Tale

12. The Prisoner's Tale  
  
  
  
Claire would have enjoyed her regular trips to London much more if their foremost purpose had not been to hand Malfoy considerable amounts of money from her vault at Gringott's. She kept the memory of that one careless stroll through the Muggle world with Sirius like a treasure in her heart and immersed in it whenever things got to tedious.  
  
Right now she stood in her office in Diagon Alley, looking out of the window down on the busy street to see if she could spot Sirius amongst the milling crowd. They'd agreed Sirius should run Dumbledore's errant with Mr. Olivander while Claire met her editor-in-chief at the store. Harry had been sent shopping with the Weasleys, and Arthur Weasley had promised to return the boy safely back to Hogsmeade in the evening. School was about to start in a few days, and Claire only regretted that she could not shop with Harry for school robes and books like other parents did. But then - she was not his mother, and it was better for him not to be spotted in her company by Malfoy or one of his fellow-conspirators. It would endanger the mission, but first of all it would endanger the boy who lived.  
  
Turning away from the editor who would not stop going on and on about publishing contracts and sales numbers, she laid a hand onto her stomach. There was nothing to be seen … yet. And still she felt very protective of the tiny being growing in her. Only now she could understand how Lily Potter must have felt when on that dreadful evening when Voldemort entered the house in Godric's Hollow.  
  
"And then there is the question of parchment," Mr. Inkers went on. "Quality decreases continuously. We should really find another supplier."  
  
Claire smiled at him. "I trust you with that, Inkers, and I am sure you'll not only find better but also cheaper parchment, won't you?"  
  
The frail looking wizard beamed at her. He had been her father's right hand, and although he could bore the hell out of anyone, nobody matched his scrutiny where business was concerned.  
  
"And lest I forget," he checked the last point on his long list of subjects, which made Claire sigh softly in relief, "here is a voucher copy of Winterstorm's latest best-seller for your private library. As always you showed immaculate taste in the choice of new authors." He passed her a small silk-bound book. "I took the liberty to change the title somewhat though. 'Prisoner's Syndrome' is too medical a term in my opinion."  
  
Claire stared at the book. Understanding dawned and her heart sunk. This were Sirius' stories … "Did I send this to you?" she asked faintly. "Did I send you this manuscript?"  
  
"At the last minute, but we stopped the printing spells and gave this one a special treatment. It surely deserves it. People buy it like crazy. Can you tell me anything about the author?"  
  
Claire clenched her fingers around the book. "I am sorry he wants to remain anonymous, at least for the time being." Her mind raced. How in all the world had the manuscript got into the business mail? She had filed it away and put it onto a shelf … then Sirius had entered the office and she had forgotten about it … and had told Kiki to bundle the mail for Mr. Inkers on the same afternoon, because she had been too busy with Harry's birthday party …  
  
Shaking her head at her own incompetence, she buried the book at the very bottom of her bag and left Winterstorm's, to catch Sirius before he entered the bookstore. She was not sure how he'd react to see his stories in print. Hadn't Remus told her that Sirius had been an aspiring writer before Azkaban? Maybe he was quite happy with the result of her negligence?  
  
Anyway she'd better tell him in person and not let him run into a cardboard rack that displayed "S. Padfoot" in golden letters which did a shaky little dance whenever a customer took a book off the rack.  
  
* * *  
  
Now, three days later, school had started. The hallways and staircases of Hogwarts echoed with the laughter of hundreds of students, exchanging news and refreshing old friendships.  
  
Claire stood by the entrance door, not sure if she should venture down to the dungeons all by herself. Last time Peeves had thrown part of a suit of arms after her, and only Snape's sharp threat to report him to the Bloody Baron had made the ghost retreat. Snape and Laurel had returned from their holidays in the Austrian Alps two days before the start of term, ten days later than they had planned to. Claire smirked. Poor Laurel, she thought guiltily, he probably didn't even unpack, when Dumbledore showed him the vial Sirius had nicked at Malfoy's house.  
  
Laurel was supposed to pick up Claire and take her to the lab, where Snape for the last 48 hours had been deeply immersed in the analysis of the red potion. Early this morning, just when Sirius had left the house, the Potions master had sent an owl with the short message to come and see the result.  
  
Claire hoped that Sirius waited for her in the lab, since she was still uneasy in Snape's presence. He had never again attacked her verbally like that very first time, but he made it very clear he would not change his mind about the madness to send a squib into Voldemort's realm.  
  
„Claire, I am sorry. I forgot about you." Laurel gave her an apologising smile. "I just wanted to wait until Neville comes back from the Headmaster's office."  
  
"Is he in trouble?"  
  
Laurel shook her head. "Neville is rarely in trouble … except in Potions class, of course." She smirked. "Although he and Severus will get along much better now since Neville decided to stay away from the cauldrons and concentrate on Herbology. But if Potions wasn't an elective for the sixth and seventh years …"  
  
"But why did he have to go see the Headmaster then?"  
  
"I don't know. That's why I decided to wait. I told you about Neville's parents, didn't I?"  
  
Claire nodded solemnly. "They are patients in St. Mungo's. Amongst those who suffer from Prisoner's syndrome."  
  
"Is that what they call it now? A very apt name. Prisoners in their own bodies, without any hope for release."  
  
"Do you know how they … how they got ill?"  
  
Laurel bit her lip, as always when she was nervous or worried. "Death Eaters tortured them. Neville was just a baby then and grew up with his grandmother. He has never known his parents any different than the way they are now. Empty eyes, shallow breath, no will of their own."  
  
"And now you are afraid Dumbledore had bad news for the boy," Claire concluded.  
  
Laurel sighed. "He is such a nice shy guy. It would hit him hard if he lost his parents. He visits them once a month and reads to them, can you imagine? Those living dead, and he reads them stories."  
  
A sudden croaking in the winding stairs announced that Neville's talk to the headmaster was over. The staircase started to move.  
  
When Laurel saw Neville's face, her worst fears became true. Had the boy been a Muggle, she'd said he looked as if he'd just seen a ghost. But then, this was Hogwarts and Neville saw ghosts every time he turned, since he was Peeves' pet victim.  
  
"Neville, what has happened?" she asked softly. "Your parents … are they ..."  
  
Neville's grey eyes were wide in shock. "Yes," he whispered as if he were afraid to say it loudly. "Something happened to them. They …," his bottom lip trembled, "They woke up this morning."  
  
Claire and Laurel stared at him unbelievingly.  
  
"It is true," he said, his voice gaining assurance. "Dumbledore just told me. My dad wanted ham and eggs for breakfast. And Mum … she asked for a hairbrush …"  
  
All of a sudden he started to shiver violently, and Laurel could do nothing than hug him while he cried helplessly with relief and joy.  
  
Claire sat down at the stairs and waited patiently until Neville calmed down. She deeply admired Laurel for her suddenly so soothing voice and the warmth she seemed to radiate. This was another form of healing, one that was not within her powers. She could have helped Neville had he sprained an ankle. But not with this. She was not good with comforting others … only with Sirius … She smiled to herself. There were so many things she could only do with Sirius, and sex was not even the most important by far. Being herself … a squib …  
  
The only thing she obviously could not manage was being honest with him. There was the baby. The book. The fact she did not want this marriage to end. She'd have to come clear, and soon. The lies and deceptions had started to invade her dreams. And she, who had lived a lie for the greater part of her life, who had grown so familiar with pretending to be something she wasn't - she suddenly could not bear it anymore.  
  
"Claire?"  
  
She jumped. Laurel smiled at her and reached for her hand to draw her up.  
  
"Where's Neville?", Claire asked.  
  
"He left to pack. He'll take the Express to London tonight."  
  
"To see his parents."  
  
Laurel beamed. "Yes, to see his parents. You know, even in this world of magic this is a miracle. After so many years …" She shook her head in wonderment. "I must go tell Severus."  
  
Claire paused. "I can come and see the result of his analysis later."  
  
"No, don't you worry," Laurel put a arm around her shoulders and drew her with her towards the Potion's lab in the dungeons. "He rarely bites these days."  
  
Claire smirked. "How did the holidays go?"  
  
Her friend rolled her eyes. "Exhausting! I was so afraid my parents would not like him, and I was positive Severus would hate them. But they were completely in awe of each other. Severus embraced the Muggle world like an explorer who visits an aboriginal tribe. And my parents … well, my dad's a hobby magician. Severus showed him a few simple tricks … actually I think he bespelled his cylinder. I can only hope the Ministry never find out about it." Her eyes got soft. "And then we spent a week in a hut in the mountains. Very simple. A table, two chairs, a fireplace. A bed."  
  
"I see," smiled Claire. "That's the exhausting part, I gather?"  
  
"Very exhausting."  
  
They both laughed, but then Claire got serious again.  
  
"Laurel, I need to ask you for advice."  
  
"On what? If it is about anything magical I am probably not the best source."  
  
"No, nothing magical." Claire sighed and kept her eyes riveted to the floor. "About … marriage."  
  
"Marriage?" Laurel stopped and turned to Claire. "But …"  
  
"I know you and Severus are not married. I never understood why."  
  
"It just didn't seem important," Laurel shrugged.  
  
"But you and Severus have been together for longer than anybody else in my acquaintance. I don't know any other married couples but the Malfoys. And the day I'll ask Narcissa Malfoy for marital advice will be the day the sky comes tumbling down."  
  
"What kind of advice do you seek?"  
  
Claire sighed again. "Sirius and I … we … there are things I need to tell them. Things I kept a secret for too long. But I don't know how."  
  
Laurel thought about it. "All I can tell you is that love can bridge any difference. But it needs a lot of work as well."  
  
"Work?"  
  
"Hard work. I remember, when I was very desperate once, Dumbledore told me that the easy way wasn't always the right way. I did not understand him then. But now I do. Severus and I, we work hard on our life together." She put a comforting hand on Claire's arm. "We take it step by step. And we learn so much from each other. He learned to hold my hand when we take a walk along the lake-shore. I learned to not hold his hand in the presence of students. Small things like that."  
  
Her face got very serious. "But honesty is crucial. If you keep secrets, Sirius will never trust you. "  
  
Claire's eyes filled with tears. "But if I tell him the truth, I'll lose him."  
  
"And maybe you won't. I don't know Sirius that well, but he has been betrayed once and I don't think he'd take it easy if somebody claimed to love him and lied to him at the same time."  
  
"You are right." They had reached the Potions lab. "I knew it all along, I just needed to hear it from somebody else."  
  
* * *  
  
The Potions master stood at a workbench and like a Muggle magician put on a show - at least that was what Sirius thought, as always irritated by the other wizard.  
  
Two glass tubes contained the same crystal clear potion.  
  
Snape cleared his throat. "I add a drop of the content of the vial from Malfoy's box."  
  
The clear potion showed an immediate reaction, it sizzled and bubbled and then turned a vile green.  
  
"What does this mean?" asked Claire, her meagre two years of Potion class long forgotten.  
  
"It is nothing but a test reaction that allows us to compare the potency of two ingredients. Similar ingredients, similar reaction," explained Snape.  
  
„Now, watch what happens when I add this hair from Mr. Potter's head."  
  
With shock Claire and Laurel saw the liquid turn the same brilliant green as before.  
  
"This stuff," Snape pointed at the vial, "contains blood. But not just some blood. It is …  
  
"Harry's blood?" Claire's throat got very dry.  
  
"Or blood very similar to Harry's. Incredibly similar. Male child, born on the same day, but not necessarily in the same year. Under the same stars, so it would have to be somewhere in the United Kingdom. Half Wizard, half Muggle."  
  
"Malfoy said the vials were more expensive than Veritaserum."  
  
Snape whistled softly. "I see. They took great pains to get as close to Harry's blood as was possible without getting a hold on Harry himself."  
  
"How did you get the idea of using a hair of Harry's?" asked Sirius in sudden suspicion.  
  
"I remembered what the boy told Dumbledore about his last meeting with Voldemort. That Voldemort used Harry's blood to restore his former body and strength."  
  
"But that was not more than just a few drops as far as I know," said Claire. "No way they could have filled all the vials in the box we've seen."  
  
Laurel shook her head and took a closer look at the remains of the red potion in the vial. "And what could they possibly use blood for now?"  
  
Severus shrugged. "Part of another restoring ritual? Ingredient for a potion? Who knows."  
  
He carefully locked the vial and the test tube in a strongbox and sealed it with a spell. "I'll talk about it with Dumbledore. Maybe he has an idea about what ancient ritual reacquires blood of the enemy."  
  
Sirius left the dungeons deep in thought, but aware enough of Peeves teasing Claire to hit the obnoxious ghost with a sharp flicker of his wand. In the hall they almost got trampled down by a stampede of students and saved themselves into a corner until the crowed had passed by.  
  
Claire took Sirius' hand, gratefully he liked physical contact better than Snape. Sirius would always hold her hand, students present or not, when he felt she needed reassurance. On the downside she never knew if his kisses and caresses really meant what she hoped for or if they were just his way to show kindness.  
  
"I need to see Dumbledore," Sirius said regretfully. "Please don't walk through the forest alone. Take the secret passageway to the shack."  
  
Claire smiled. In the beginning she had bristled every time he forbid her to do certain things. But they had learned, she conceded, just like Severus and Laurel had. She had learned to not take his advice as orders, and he had learned to voice his orders as advice. Like an old couple ... For a moment she allowed herself a daydream. Sirius living in her house, happily writing books, helping her raise their child ... no, their children. Growing old together ...  
  
She sighed. Tonight she'd tell him and hope for the best. "I see you at teatime then."  
  
* * *  
  
Sirius entered the Headmasters office with the same sinking feeling as in his days as a student. But while he had had a reason to feel guilty then every time he had been called into the circular room, he was almost sure he had not committed any crime lately. Probably Dumbledore wanted another report about the mission. Or he'd again try to nudge him gently towards the admission that this marriage was a good thing …  
  
Dumbledore gave him a big paternal smile when he entered, and pushed the half-moon-shaped glasses up on his head.  
  
"Sit down, dear boy." Silently he reminded himself to not forget that Black was not the fledgling he seemed to the Headmaster, but a grown wizard. He certainly looked the part, he had put on weight since his days as a stray, and the wildness in appearance had given way to something more pleasant if still far too serious, something that reminded Dumbledore of the boy Sirius had been not so long ago. He sighed. It was very hard when everybody was ages younger than you were ...  
  
He remembered Sirius on the day he'd breached the defences of Hogwarts and had almost got his revenge on Peter Pettigrew. He'd been a mere shadow than, madness burning in his eyes, ready to die as soon as he'd killed the wizard who ruined his life and murdered his friends.  
  
Dumbledore had married him to Claire not only to provide his newest spy with a husband, not only to protect Claire, but also to heal Sirius of the many blows life had dealt him, and not only since that dreadful Halloween almost 15 years past. He could only hope that living with Claire would show the boy the more pleasant side of life. Maybe even … love …  
  
He stroked his beard and made a mental note to not call Sirius "the boy" again. Harry was a boy, and Neville, and Draco, yes even Draco. Sirius and the two others were men now, men who could take their fates into their own hands. But then again - sometimes they needed a gentle push into the right direction …  
  
Sirius cleared his throat. "Headmaster?"  
  
Dumbledore snapped out of his musings and smiled at Sirius. "Ah, Sirius. What can I do for you?"  
  
Sirius shook his head. "It was you, who had me called into this office. There was something you wanted to show me."  
  
"Something I wanted …", Dumbledore scratched his head. "Ah, yes! I wanted to show you something! Something that was delivered to me only this morning, together with a letter from Dr. Jung."  
  
"Jung? The doctor of St. Mungo's?"  
  
"The very same." Dumbledore waved a piece of parchment. "Here it is. Have some cake, won't you? Did you know that there is no way whatsoever to magically produce a decent apple pie?"  
  
Sirius sighed. Sometimes it was really hard to keep up with the old wizard jumping from one idea to the other.  
  
"Well, well. Let me see." Dumbledore put his glasses back on his nose. Then he put the letter down again. "By the way, how are things between you and Claire?"  
  
"Me and Claire?" Sirius frowned. "Good, I think. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Oh nothing, nothing. Everything alright with Harry?"  
  
"Claire almost cried when we delivered him at the door of Hogwarts - as if her little boy was sent hundreds of miles away," Sirius snorted, but Dumbledore could see he was secretly pleased about how well his wife and godson got along. "Malfoy has a spy in Hogsmeade. He knew Harry was staying with us for the summer."  
  
Dumbledore just nodded. "I am aware of that. It is Miranda Green, the witch who lives in the house next to the train-station."  
  
"We told Malfoy and his … friend that you forced us to keep Harry for a few weeks. Fortunately he is back in the security of Hogwarts now, before Voldemort demands another token of our credibility."  
  
"Who was Malfoy's friend again?"  
  
"Ben Olsen. I told you about him when we reported back, didn't I?"  
  
The Headmaster smiled faintly. "You mentioned him, yes. Do you think he recognised you?"  
  
"We have met when he was a student here last year. But I don't think he suspects me."  
  
"What was your impression? Is he indeed Malfoy's friend? His fellow- conspirator? His rival?"  
  
Sirius thought about it. "Malfoy said, Olsen was his ... legal advisor, something like that. That's why he insisted on bringing him to Gringott's when we transferred Claire's money. He seems very shrewd. Very ambitious. I guess he'd be Malfoy's rival then. They both want the position of third-in- command." He looked up all of a sudden. "Oh, and there was something else. I almost forgot about it. He asked about Serene."  
  
"Serene Kennedy?" Dumbledore's demeanour lost all its cheerful vagueness and became attentive and cold as steel.  
  
"He sent her his regards."  
  
"No message?"  
  
"Only greetings, that he was well and hoping to see her in the near future."  
  
"Did you tell Miss Kennedy about your meeting with Ben?"  
  
Sirius shrugged. "Serene and I are not exactly on friendly terms. No, I haven't told her yet. But I reckon, Claire has."  
  
"Let me deal with Serene. This is serious. Ben Olsen is dangerous, maybe more dangerous than Lucius Malfoy. At least for Serene's soul."  
  
"Talking of souls …" Sirius rose and started to pace the circular study, much to the annoyance of Fawkes. "Can't you put a stop to her torturing Remus?"  
  
Dumbledore arched his eyebrows. "Is she torturing him?"  
  
"She plays with him. She is sweet as honey one minute and cold as ice the next. And you know Remus … He really thinks she is his mate, the one person he'll spend his life with."  
  
"But you think she is not?"  
  
Sirius snorted in disgust. "Serene and Moony? Never! She'd tear out his heart."  
  
"But shouldn't Remus know best who his mate is?"  
  
"Yeah, one would think so." Sirius shook his head sadly. "But … I think he may lie to himself. He has been searching for that woman for the best part of his life. And hasn't found her yet. I am afraid he is in love with Serene only because he needs so much to be in love …"  
  
"Enough!" Dumbledore's voice was still soft, but had taken on a sharp edge. "I thought Remus was your friend."  
  
Sirius frowned. "He is. That's why I am worried."  
  
"It is not Remus you should be worried about, Sirius Black. It is you."  
  
"But …"  
  
"Love is the one thing that helps us to overcome all despair, all evil, the very darkness itself. Remus loves Serene Kennedy from the bottom of his heart. And he is blessed, even if this love is painful." The old wizard looked at Sirius attentively. "Who do you love, Sirius? Who will help you get through eternal night, should it fall onto us all?"  
  
Sirius swallowed hard and avoided to face the Headmaster. "You are wrong," he said softly. "Love is the thing that tears us apart. The thing that hurts us so bad all we pray for is death."  
  
Dumbledore was by his side in a flash. "I am sorry, my boy," he sighed, his voice brittle with sudden exhaustion. "I did not mean to be so hard on you. But let Remus get through this on his own." He patted Sirius' shoulder.  
  
"Now, we completely forgot why you came. I wanted to read you this letter."  
  
Sirius only nodded. The Headmaster's words had shaken him to the core. Who would stand by his side when the final battle came? Who would cry for him if he died in the vain attempt to kill Peter? But then again - he had stood alone for most of his life, he could just as well stand alone now. A sudden memory of Claire's face on the heights of passion made him smile for a heartbeat, but then he imagined her standing at his grave and his throat tightened in pain. For the first time in weeks he felt the almost irresistible urge to run, to run until he was too tired to think, to feel, to fear.  
  
"Sirius?"  
  
"Yes. The letter. What does it say?"  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat and read Dr. Jung's letter aloud. Obviously Neville Longbottom's parents had awoken from their catatonic state all of a sudden, without any medical explanation.  
  
"The Longbottoms!" Sirius exclaimed. "I remember Frank and …"  
  
"Alice."  
  
"Alice, right. I did not know they were Voldemort's victims, too."  
  
"They have been imprisoned in their body for so many years now, and there was no hope at all."  
  
"And now they woke up? Just like that?"  
  
The old wizard stroked his beard. "Well, Dr. Jung has a theory, and though it sounds farfetched and impossible to prove, I think he may be right. The Longbottoms are amongst the few Prisoners in St. Mungo's who get visitors on a regular basis. And these visitors, their son Neville and the boy's grandmother, used to read to them."  
  
Sirius nodded. "You think it was the reading that healed them?"  
  
"Not the reading per se." Dumbledore patted a silk-bound book on his desk. "But reading them this."  
  
The book did not seem extraordinary. Sirius took it from the Headmaster's hand, opening it carefully. He had once been bitten by a book in his second year as a student. When his gaze fell onto the first page, he read "The Prisoner's Tale, by S. Padfoot." He kept staring at the page, unwilling to admit to himself that what he saw was true. Painfully slow the letters found their way into his brain. It could not be, he told himself. It could not be. But when he reluctantly turned the page, he knew every word he read.  
  
"S. Padfoot is you, am I right?" beamed Dumbledore. "Congratulations, Sirius! It is an outstanding book. Even if it had not healed the Longbottoms. I always knew you'd be a writer one day."  
  
"I am not a writer." Sirius got up and let the book slide out of his hand carelessly. He felt cold, and as if his body had suddenly gone numb all over. "I am not a writer," he repeated, ignoring Dumbledore's questioning look. "I am a fool."  
  
* * *  
  
When Claire saw Sirius' face, she knew something was wrong - and terribly so. He looked as if somebody had hit him in the stomach, sick and hurt and unbelievingly.  
  
"Sirius?" She stood up and closed the distance between them, only to be stopped by his raised hand.  
  
"Don't." He actually stepped back, just so she would not touch him.  
  
Claire's heart sunk. The worst had happened. Somebody had told him about the baby, and now he hated her for tying him to her in a marriage he had only agreed to on a temporary basis.  
  
"What is wrong?" she asked carefully, still hoping in the core of her heart she had misinterpreted his gesture.  
  
"How could you do this to me?"  
  
She had not been wrong. His voice was blank, void of all emotions, but his eyes told her enough. The blue had darkened to almost black.  
  
"Don't you think I should have had the right to know before everybody else?"  
  
She winced.  
  
"Yes. I should have told you first. But I was not sure how you'd react."  
  
His eyes flared up. "Do you know me so little? No, Claire, I did not want this to be. Not like this. Not now." His scowl made her shiver. "But you were never really interested in what I wanted, were you?"  
  
She clasped her hands to fight back the tears. "If you don't want it, Sirius, then leave it to me. I am so happy about it. I promise I won't bother you for anything."  
  
"Not bother me?" Suddenly he grabbed both her arms and shook her hard. "That's not enough. I want it gone! Get rid of it. I don't care how, just do it."  
  
"No!"  
  
Claire pushed him away with a strength that was born out of fury and disappointment and desperation. "How dare you even suggest I'd do anything like that!"  
  
"Right." His face distorted into a frown of disgust. "I should have known it. It is all about money, isn't it? You give a damn about my feelings."  
  
"That's not true!" she protested, her voice tight with uncried tears.  
  
He shook his head, not even listening to her plea. Claire's heart ached when he stared at her. "How could you betray me like this?"  
  
Helplessly Claire raised her shoulders and let them sink again. "I never meant this to happen, Sirius. But when it did, I was out of my mind with joy. I guess, I just wanted to keep it a secret for a while, like a treasure only I knew about. Of course I had to tell Poppy, she would have guessed anyway, but ..." She frowned in sudden confusion. "Why did you say it was all about money? What's money got to do with it?"  
  
He snorted, and the hurt and anger that had subsided for a moment when he saw her despair, gained the upper hand again. "Money. That's why you can't take it off the market, or is it? Winterstorm Inc. would suffer greatly."  
  
"Off the market?" Claire's eyes widened in confusion. "Sirius, what are you talking about, for Merlin's sake?"  
  
"The book," he said through gritted teeth. "The damned book."  
  
"The book." Suddenly she got dizzy and almost fainted with relief. He had demanded she'd get rid of "The Prisoner's Tale". Not of the baby.  
  
Sirius' eyes narrowed dangerously.  
  
"Claire," he said and his voice trembled with suppressed suspicion. "I was talking about the book. What did you think I was talking about?"  
  
She wiped the tears off her cheek with the back of her hand. Then, one hand flat on her stomach, she admitted: "The baby. I was talking about the baby."  
  
Had the situation been any different, Claire would have made a mental note to one day tell her grandchildren about the priceless gape of utter surprise her answer triggered. But as it was, the surprise was replaced by something else instantly - defeat. His whole posture crumbled. His shoulders fell, his head sunk and suddenly he reminded her of a picture she'd seen in the Daily Prophet - Sirius Black on his way to Azkaban. Numb with pain. Pale as death he stood in the middle of the office, and just when Claire feared he'd faint or break down, he raised his head and looked at her.  
  
"Of course." His voice was empty, as if he addressed a stranger. "I understand."  
  
"Sirius." She tried to touch his hand, but he flinched as if she'd burned him with a hot iron. "This obliges you to nothing. You are free to go wherever you want, once Voldemort is defeated. I am well able to rise a child on my own, so you must not think I did get pregnant to tie you to me."  
  
"And why would you?" His bitterness cut her like a knife. "I helped the baby into existence, that was all you needed from me."  
  
Claire reached out an caressed his cheek and he let it happen as if her hand wasn't there. "That's not true. I love you, Sirius. I am aware that this is just another thing you never wanted, but it is a fact and I won't deny it any longer."  
  
"You have a very special way to show your love, Claire. If Winterstorm Inc. ever goes out of business, you might apply with the Dementors." He took her hand and removed it from his cheek like an inanimate object. "But even they would consider you cruel."  
  
Claire could not believe the surreal situation. Whenever she had imagined the moment when she confessed her pregnancy, she had imagined Sirius to be angry, even a bit hurt she'd not told him earlier. But this, the bitterness, the coldness, was much worse than she had ever feared. She had the distinct feeling she'd missed a vital information.  
  
"Sirius," she tried to get through to him. "I am sorry I did not tell you earlier. But .."  
  
"Save you breath." His face was a cold mask. "You said I was free to go wherever I wanted once Voldemort was defeated. Well, I don't give a damn about your plan anymore. I am leaving. Now."  
  
He Disapparated from the room, and when the house-elves found their mistress an hour later, she sat in her chair, staring blindly out of the window. She waited all night, but the entrance door did not open and the stairs did not croak and Sirius did not return.  
  
* * * 


	13. Revelations and Errors

13. Revelations and Errors  
  
  
  
Dumbledore bowed his head to get through the low door to the platform on top of the Astronomy Tower. He knew that the students thought he was omniscient, but actually he was just very attentive and had years - oh so many years, he sighed silently - of experience. But he not seen this coming.  
  
Sirius sat on his favourite place, dangerously close to the edge, and stared into the sunset. It would have been a quite romantic sight, but his face told nothing of such warm feelings.  
  
When he heard Dumbledore's steps, he did not turn.  
  
The Headmaster sat down next to the younger wizard. "So it is true?"  
  
"Yes." Sirius' voice made it plain that he had no intention to talk about whatever distressed him.  
  
Dumbledore who had outsilenced wizards much more experienced than Sirius, took his time and let his gaze wander over the school grounds. On the Quidditch pitch a practice session was on. He'd have to have a word with the team captains not to play after dawn. The magical fires that lightened the field were so bright, the centaurs of the Forbidden Forrest had already complained they made it impossible to watch the stars.  
  
"I told you in the beginning I was not the right man to guard Claire."  
  
"You did, didn't you."  
  
Sirius turned his head and Dumbledore saw with worry, how drawn he looked. "And I was right."  
  
"That remains to be seen."  
  
"No." Sirius spoke through gritted teeth. "That was made clear today."  
  
"Are you going to tell me what happened?"  
  
"No."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Listen Sirius, in every marriage there are times of misunderstanding. All lovers fight once in a while. But that doesn't mean …"  
  
"No."  
  
His tension was almost palpable, and hadn't Dumbledore known him so well, he'd put an arm around his hunched shoulders to comfort him.  
  
"My dear boy," the Headmaster said softly, "why is that you think you are the only person in the world who has to be strong all the time?"  
  
Sirius tensed even more. His fingers tug into his knees so hard that his knuckles paled. For a long time he remained silent. When he finally spoke, he did not address the Headmaster but rather the last remains of the sun on the horizon. "When I was a boy we had this glass vase standing in the living room. It was beautiful and very old, I guess. I loved it when the sunlight fell through it because the glass changed the colour of the light that danced on the floor. One day I saw a tiny little crack in the glass, so small you would only notice it if you looked very closely. I touched it and the vase shattered." His voice broke. "Just one tiny crack, and it came apart."  
  
He rose abruptly and turned away, so the Headmaster would not see his face. "Do you mind if I move into my old quarters for a while?"  
  
"As long as you want, child. As long as you need."  
  
* * *  
  
It was easy to see that Claire had been crying all night. Her eyes were red- rimmed and she looked as if she was nursing a bad headache. Therefore the first thing Dumbledore did after he'd offered her a seat, was sending one of the House Elves to Madam Pomfrey to fetch a potion.  
  
He poured a small quantity of the bitter liquid into a cup of hot tea and urged Claire to drink it. The effect was immediate, and Claire relaxed a little.  
  
"I am sorry to bother you, Headmaster, but I … I did something dreadfully wrong …"  
  
The old wizard sighed. "Ah Claire … What am I going to do with you and that stubborn fool you have as a husband …"  
  
"It is my fault," she said softly and took another sip of potion-laced tea. "I hurt him. Of course he has a right to be upset because I did not tell him about the book and the …", she blushed, "the baby."  
  
"A baby?" Dumbledore beamed with joy. His blue eyes sparkled at the good news. "The two of you will have a child? How very delightful!" Slowly the smile faded and he rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "Now I understand why he is so angry."  
  
"Do you?" Claire asked with unveiled bitterness. "Have the kindness to explain it to me. Because I don't."  
  
The Headmaster rose and went to one of the large chests at one side of the room. He almost disappeared into one drawer that was filled with paper and parchment scrolls. Claire remembered how he had put her file there when her father came to take her on the last day of school, so this must be where he kept all the student's files and ledgers. The chest had to be magical since Hogwarts admitted about a hundred students every year, and with a school history of more than one-thousand years there should have been a considerable amount of paper. After some grumbling and shovelling, Dumbledore dug out an envelope, yellowed with age, and put it into his sleeve.  
  
He sat down by the fireplace and patted the seat next to him. "Sit down, dear girl." Studying her face with a gently smile, he offered her a bowl with almond fudge. "I had no idea about your condition. The last months have been rather busy and I guess I just don't pay enough attention to every one of you."  
  
She shook her head. "You always have an open ear for us, Headmaster."  
  
"Won't you call me Albus at last, Claire?" he suggested kindly.  
  
"I … well, yes, Headmaster … I mean Al…" Her tongue refused the name, so she resorted to telling him about Sirius' reaction when he discovered the truth about the book.  
  
"You should have seen him. As if I had stabbed a knife right into his heart." She covered her face with both hands and kept silent for a moment. "I mean, it is just a book."  
  
Dumbledore reached out and gently pried her hands off her face. "Before you go on blaming yourself for what happened, I need to show you something. Maybe then you'll understand."  
  
He led her to the chamber at the back of the study. Windowless and narrow, it was little more than a wardrobe, and the only thing in it was a shallow stone basin. Although there was no lamp in the room, the content of the basin shone brightly.  
  
Claire frowned. "This is a pensieve, isn't it? Sirius and Remus gave Harry one for his birthday."  
  
Dumbledore arched a bushy eyebrow. "That's quite an unusual gift for a sixteen year old. If I remember correctly I got a new quill and a pair of socks. But Harry is an unusual boy after all …" He cleared his throat. "I used to think that I'd betray Severus' trust in me if I told Laurel about his past and the events that made him the wizard he is today. But that lack of information caused so much pain and distress that I changed my mind. There are things you need to know about Sirius." And with that he gave her a surprisingly strong push, and she fell head-over into the pensieve.  
  
  
  
Claire closed her eyes for a moment to get a clear head. The walls of the chamber had vanished, and so had the whole castle. The air was colder than it was around Hogwarts, there was a chain of mountains to the west, and the trees on the mountain side were bare of leaves. She was standing next to Dumbledore, who ignored her completely. And then she recognised that this was not the Dumbledore she knew, but rather the Dumbledore of her childhood or even younger. Around them stood a crowd of solemn faced wizards and witches she did not know.  
  
Claire heard somebody blow a sad melody on a Ffron, a horn made out of the tail of the Horntail Dragon. It was an ancient instrument, rarely heard except at funerals.  
  
Suddenly she recognised that they were indeed standing at a grave yard. In front of them was an open grave, piled with flowers and wreaths.. A representative of the Ministry stood at one side of the grave, holding a velvet pillow with a golden star on it, the Order of the Star, second class.  
  
Loud sobs were the only sound beside the tunes of the Ffron, and when the melody ended, Claire could see that the pitiful noise came from a black robed woman who was the only one sitting - or rather cringing on a chair next to the grave.  
  
A which behind Dumbledore whispered to her friend that Black's widow had not ceased crying since she'd got the news about her husband's death three days ago.  
  
Claire frowned. Could this be possible? Had Dumbledore take her with him into his memory of the funeral of Sirius' father? What did he want her to see, she wondered.  
  
Friends and relatives of the dead Auror stepped forward and said their good- byes. Some of them tried to hug Cassie Black, tried to offer her comfort, but she pushed them away violently only to sink back into her well of tears. Eventually it was Dumbledore's turn.  
  
He stood by the grave, and Claire was close enough to hear what he said. "Travel in peace, old friend." The old wizards voice was steady and calm. "As this life is not the beginning, this death is not the end."  
  
He turned away and looked at the crying woman who was clinging to her chair. Not even trying to get through to her, he passed her by and instead hunched down to address the little boy standing behind the chair.  
  
Claire's breath hitched in her throat. It was Sirius at age five or six, and he looked just like on the picture in the Daily Prophet. She could only hope her baby was a boy and resembled his father with his dark hair and bright blue eyes. He'd had curls than …  
  
She found it hard to tear her eyes off Sirius who frowned at the strange wizard who talked to him as if he was a grown up. Which in Sirius' mind he was - she only needed to look at the way he held his arms around his brothers protectively. The twins did not really understand what was going on and he had them play with their toy wands, while Reggie kept staring at his mother who ignored the children completely.  
  
Dumbledore nodded and rose and Claire found she had not heard a word he said to the boy. But Sirius looked up at the Headmaster with an expression far too serious for a child his age. Dumbledore offered him his hand and he shook it, a solemn gesture like a vow. Then he bowed down to wipe snot off his brother's grimy face.  
  
Suddenly Claire felt a hand on her shoulder and when she turned she saw Dumbledore, the Dumbledore of her present time. Come back, he mouthed, and she reached out and let him pull her out of the basin. It felt like going too fast on a swing and doing a summersault, but when she opened her eyes a second later she stood where she had stood before, in front of the Pensieve.  
  
  
  
The Headmaster offered her a hand to steady her, and led her back to the chair by the fireplace. He fussed a bit about the fact he'd forgotten she was pregnant, and assured her that a dip into the Pensieve would not do the unborn child any harm.  
  
She smirked. "When I was little it wouldn't take more than two summersaults to make me sick. So pregnant or not, I can't really enjoy these things." She leaned forward and warmed her hands at the fire. Dumbledore remained silent, and for a while looked as if he had fallen asleep.  
  
Claire cleared her throat." What did you tell Sirius then?"  
  
He sighed with such pain that Claire instinctively reached out for his hand.  
  
"I may have made a mistake, and it is quite possible that you have to suffer the consequences of my careless words."  
  
Claire frowned. "Are you trying to say Sirius is overreacting the way he does because of something you said some 30 years ago? What in the world could you have told a little boy at his father's funeral?"  
  
"I told him he was responsible for his brothers now, since his mother was obviously neither willing nor able to care for them." Dumbledore polished his glasses although they were magical and never really needed any polishing. "I only wanted to give him something to hold on for a few days. Who could have guessed that Cassie Black would wrap her grieve around her like a cloak and never let go of it again?"  
  
"You mean she stayed like this? Crying? Not taking any notice of the world around her?"  
  
He nodded sadly. "She locked herself into a room and stayed there for the rest of her life, surrounded with pictures of the man she'd loved."  
  
"But … the boys?"  
  
Dumbledore reached into his sleeve and pulled out the envelope. "Six years later the Deputy Headmaster came into my office, so excited he almost fainted. Something had happened, something unrecalled in the history of this school. For the very first time a student had reclined his invitation to Hogwarts."  
  
Claire stared at the letter he passed her. "Dear Professor Flamel" she read aloud.  
  
"My friend Nicolas was Deputy Headmaster then," explained Dumbledore. "Like Minerva today he was responsible for mailing off the invitation letters the magical quill wrote."  
  
"Thank you for the letter," Claire continued. The handwriting was dreadful and every second word was spelled wrong. "But I am too busy to go to school right now. Sorry. Sincerely, Sirius Black." She shook her head and did not know whether she wanted to laugh or cry.  
  
"He actually refused to come to Hogwarts?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded weakly. "I went to their house in Wales and found that he was the one who cared for his brothers. He cleaned the house, he did the laundry, and he cooked - actually they lived of sandwiches, I recall. He made sure the boys went to school, and he protected them, even if that meant he had to beat up another bully every other day. There was no other wizard family in the village where they lived, so Sirius had to cover not only that there was nobody to care for them, but also that they were wizard folk.. He brought the meals on a tray to their mothers room and she never even took notice he was there." Dumbledore took the letter out of Claire's hands, folded it carefully and put it back into the envelope. "I contacted the Ministry, and they transferred the house to Hogsmeade and found a nice witch who took care of the younger ones while Sirius attended school in Hogwarts. She was very kind, but Sirius would still sneak out of the castle every night to see his brothers. I guess that's how he found all the secret passages. After three years we had them all here, and Cassie Black did not even know about it. All she did was sit and stare at the pictures of her husband."  
  
"That's why he is so protective of everybody?" Claire wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Because he had to?"  
  
"Because he doesn't know it any other way. Responsibility is a virtue for a grown wizard, but for a five year old boy it is a dreadful burden. He was only a year older than Regulus and still he felt he had to care for him and protect him."  
  
"But then … here at school … I remember him. He seemed so carefree."  
  
"He always watched his brothers from the corner of his eyes, but yes, you are right. For the first time he was carefree. For the first time he could be young, a child. I guess that's why he loved James and Remus so much. Although Remus suffered from Lycanthropy he'd insist that he needn't be looked after. A fiercely independent boy. And James … well James had no fear in the world. He could conquer all. For the first time Sirius had friends, friends who'd let him be one of them. Who cared for him if needed."  
  
Fawkes woke up and whistled excitedly when he saw Claire. Hopping up and down on his perch he tried to make her notice him until she stood up and lifted him off the perch. Crooning he snuggled his head to her shoulder. She returned to her seat by the fire, the heavy phoenix in her arms.  
  
"I still don't understand why he reacted the way he did. It had nothing to do with his family."  
  
"You are his family now," said Dumbledore slowly and Claire forgot to pet the phoenix, so serious was his voice. "You and Harry. If Sirius has learned one thing as a child, it is that he is the one who has to be strong. He would never allow himself a moment of weakness."  
  
Claire's mouth twitched doubtfully.  
  
"Sirius? Sirius is not weak. He is a rock. He'd never …." She paled. Fawkes felt her sudden pain and started to whistle worriedly. " Maybe you are right. He showed weakness. Just once … the night when he told me the first story." Desperately she remembered the moment he'd broken down and surrendered to her embrace. "He was weak. And now he thinks I sold him for that?"  
  
"Dear girl, let what I told you not mislead you! I wanted you to know about Sirius' past so you would not feel so guilty." His lovely blue eyes met hers. "Neither of you has much experience with relationships. You never had to beg your parents for anything, am I right? You got love in abundance."  
  
She nodded silently.  
  
"And Sirius never begged his mother for affection because he knew he wouldn't get it anyway. So be patient. Ask his forgiveness for the mistake you made. And hopefully he'll learn in time that he can ask you for the love he needs, without fear of rejection."  
  
Claire rubbed her forehead tiredly. "I'd do anything to have him back," she admitted. "not just because I want my baby to grow up with a father. For me." Tears streamed down her face and she didn't even try to hold them back. "I know it is selfish, but I want him back for me."  
  
Dumbledore smiled kindly and passed her a handkerchief.  
  
"All things will fall into place," he comforted her softly. "You'll see."  
  
"Don't you ever get annoyed when everybody in Hogwarts bothers you with their petty problems?" she sobbed and blew her nose.  
  
"Petty problems?" He cupped her chin and gently urged her to look at him. "You all are my children in a way. I saw you come here, so very young and fragile, and I saw you grow up. If you get hurt, I ache as well. I want you to be happy, and I want those in my care to be whole and safe. So don't hesitate to come to me."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Why don't you gather all your courage and go to Sirius' quarters? His last class should be over in half an hour. Maybe the two of you can talk it out."  
  
Her shaky smile told him that she'd try at least - and this was all he wanted.  
  
"Claire?" The Headmaster called her when she was almost out of the door. "One more thing."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"There will be no more meeting with Voldemort now that you are with child."  
  
Her eyes widened. "But …"  
  
Dumbledore made it clear that he'd not allow a discussion in this matter. "It is too dangerous. We shall have to find an excuse Malfoy will buy. Promise me you won't answer any invitation to meet the Dark Lord in person."  
  
* * *  
  
Claire knocked shyly at Sirius' door. When no answer came, she waited for a few minutes, and when Sirius didn't show up, she simply turned the knob and entered. Sirius' door would never be locked, just like the doors in her own house.  
  
The room was bare of any decoration. Claire took in the sparse furniture, the narrow bed, the open window. Sirius had moved into Winterstorm Manor with just a few clothes in a bag and a large box of books. It was obvious that he didn't keep any more possessions here at Hogwarts. There had not been much time in his life to gather material things, Claire thought when she sat down at the edge of the bed. She knew he was not poor because the few galleons that had been in his vault by the time of his arrest must have amassed some interest. And he had access to that money, because at Gringotts nobody really cared whether you were a escaped murderer from Azkaban as long as you got the key to your vault.  
  
But he owned neither pictures nor any other souvenirs of his past.  
  
Gently she let a finger trail over the pillow, then she picked it up and breathed in the scent she loved so much. Last night she'd slept in Sirius' bedroom in her house, just to have the feeling he was present somehow.  
  
When she looked at her watch, the fireplace suddenly coughed, and a small cloud of sod escaped. Claire jumped up - only so see one of her own house- elves step out of the fire.  
  
"Peagreen!"  
  
The elf shrieked. "Miss Claire! What is you doing here?"  
  
"Well, I could ask you the same."  
  
Peagreen's bulging eyes popped out even more. "I … there is … he," she stuttered, only to bang her head against the poster of the bed at the next moment. "Peagreen is a very bad elf … very very very bad!"  
  
Claire grabbed the little creatures shoulder. "Stop that! Just tell me what you are doing in Hogwarts."  
  
"Peagreen is oh so bad," the elf sobbed and clasped her hands over her belly. "But Peagreen is not understanding."  
  
Claire picked her up and sat her onto the bed. When the elf had cried for a while and raked her green hair until it stood up in spikes, she asked again.  
  
"Sweetie, what are you doing here?"  
  
"You is my mistress, Miss Claire," Peagreen sniffed. "You is always my mistress. But your Sirius … he is Peagreen's friend."  
  
"But that's alright," Claire assured her. "I am glad you like him now."  
  
"Elves does not understand wizard folk. You always does fight and make up and fight and make up."  
  
"Oh Peagreen," her mistress sighed. "I wish I would understand it myself. But I don't either."  
  
"He has very sad, very much pain, your Sirius," exclaimed the elf. "Like when Peagreen get hit on the head once by the hippogriff."  
  
Sebastian Winterstorm had once got a hippogriff as a present from a foreign business partner, and the arrogant animal had become the scourge of the elves. Eventually Claire's father had been forced to give the hippogriff to a magical animal wildlife resort in Sherwood forest.  
  
"He does very unhappy," Peagreen continued. "That makes us think why not bring him something to makes him happy."  
  
She dug out a small bundle of cloth from under her shirt. When she unfolded it, Claire recognised her favourite silk scarf.  
  
"Why this?" she asked astonished.  
  
"He want something of you," sniffed Peagreen. "Something to remember."  
  
Claire swallowed hard. Then she folded the scarf neatly and put it under the pillow, suddenly feeling almost dizzy with relief. She still meant something to him. Maybe Sirius did not love her, but he missed her and for the moment this was all she needed to go on.  
  
She patted Peagreen's head. "You did very well, little one. I am proud of you. Now I want you to go fetch a few more things." She explained in detail what she wanted the elf to bring and where to put it. When Peagreen had hurried into the fireplace and disappeared in a blaze of green flames, Claire sighed and left the room as well - through the door, like any common squib.  
  
  
  
On her way home through the forest she never noticed the black dog who followed her in a distance, and watched every step she took. But the huge spider that was on the ambush in a particularly dark stretch of underwood decided at the threatening growl that a fight with the dog was not worth it.  
  
When Claire got into Hogsmeade the dog made his way through the sideways and lay in hiding until he saw her enter the house. The light in the office upstairs went on and the dog stared up at the light for hours, until he decided it was time to return to Hogwarts.  
  
When Sirius entered his quarters, he shrunk back in surprise. The bed was covered with a throw in soft colours now, there was a bowl with grapes on the mantelpiece and a bunch of garden flowers in a pretty vase on the side table. Under the pillow he noticed something colourful, and when he removed the pillow, found the scarf. Burying his face in the silky material he took in the faint scent of Claire. And that's how he fell asleep.  
  
* * *  
  
The next day Sirius fought his inner demons all day long. In the late afternoon he won. An hour later he stood in front of Winterstorm Manor, ready to listen to Claire's explanation. A voice deep in his heart prayed that her publishing his stories had been just a mistake indeed. And about the baby ... About the baby they'd have to talk. No matter how things between and Claire turned out - he did not intent to let his child grow up without a father. Or more accurately - not without him as his father.  
  
He knocked and knew something was wrong the moment Kiki opened the door. The only elf he was friendly with used to be Peagreen, so from the way Kiki ran to him and hugged his knees, sobbing with relief, he could only expect the worst.  
  
Hearing Kiki's weeping, the other elves came from the kitchen.  
  
Sirius entered the hall somewhat awkwardly with Kiki still holding on to him.  
  
"What happened?" he asked and all the elves started to talk simultaneously.  
  
He raised a hand. "Shush! Coco, tell me what happened."  
  
The elf wrung her hands. "Miss Claire ... she go to the bad wizard. She goes all alone, without her Sirius!"  
  
Sirius paled. Stubborn stupid woman, he thought, when cold fear began to seep into his heart. She'd gone to Malfoy all alone. His fear got worse when he read the letter Peagreen brought from the study. Lucius Malfoy invited Claire to meet the Dark Master's second in command and attend a special ceremony. Pettigrew, Sirius thought and stuffed the letter into his sleeve. If Malfoy took Claire to Pettigrew, chances were she'd be presented to Voldemort himself as well. He had to find her, and fast.  
  
"Where did she go?" he demanded.  
  
"We does not know. The bad wizard takes her on the broom. They fly south." Coco had started to weep again and her voice was barely audible.  
  
  
  
Half an hour later the door to the Potions lab flew open, and Sirius dashed into the dungeon without a word of greeting.  
  
Snape looked up from the cauldron he'd been busy stirring.  
  
"I can't recall begging you to enter," he snarled.  
  
Sirius frowned. "I don't have time for this now, Snape. I need your help."  
  
The Potions master gave him a scowl. "Are we in need of a specific Potion? I don't do love potions, Black. So if you have marital problems, resort to your charm and your blue eyes, will you?" He arched an eyebrow when he saw Sirius black and white striped robe. "Cute outfit, by the way."  
  
"Cut the crap!" Sirius was pale, and he took the ladle out of Snape's hand and threw it into the back of the room.  
  
"Claire is attending a Death Eater's meeting with Pettigrew this very minute. I need to know where these meetings are held, and you are the only one who'd know."  
  
Snape was all attention as soon as he heard what had happened. "Stupid stubborn woman," he muttered under his breath.  
  
"Leave her alone," demanded Sirius, not admitting that he had said the same words only half an hour ago. Yes, she was stubborn and she was stupid, but she was his woman and he was the only one who had the right to say it out loud!  
  
"I can take you to the place where they used to meet a few months ago, and we have to hope they did not find a better location yet," said Snape calmly.  
  
"Just tell me where it is!"  
  
"You wouldn't find it in time." The Potions master went to a chest of drawers and chose a small bottle. Using a piece of linen, he began to dab a black liquid onto his left forearm. The smell was nauseating.  
  
"I bear the Mark, as you well know," he explained without looking at Black. "This stuff will numb the arm for a few hours, so Voldemort can neither call me nor feel my presence through the mark."  
  
"Is this how you resist the summoning?" asked Sirius.  
  
Snape just nodded and put the potion away. His arm hung uselessly down his side. "I'll take that invisibility cloak of Mr Potter's, if you ask him for it," he suggested. "That way I can stay close to you in case help is needed."  
  
Sirius stepped into the fireplace, and returned a few minutes later with the cloak.  
  
"Why this breathtaking outfit?" asked Snape when they left the castle towards the broom shed.  
  
"I was not sure where these meetings are held," shrugged Sirius and chose two brooms that would take them out of the school grounds from where they'd Apparate. "If it is a social affair I should be dressed appropriately."  
  
Snape mounted his broom and scowled. "Oh, you'll fit just fine. The place I am taking you, is a graveyard."  
  
* * *  
  
Laurel stood, frozen with fear, and did not dare to look around her.  
  
When Malfoy had promised a meeting with Peter Pettigrew, she had accepted without thinking, driven by the wish to see the wizard who had killed the Potters and so many innocents, and had ruined the life of the man she loved. But what had sounded like a casual meeting had now turned into a frightening ceremony in a dark graveyard. Dozens of figures in hooded cloaks milled around, all waiting for ...  
  
"What are we waiting for?" she whispered, carefully keeping her voice steady and unimpressed.  
  
"We are waiting for the Dark Lord himself," answered Malfoy.  
  
"Vol ...," she coughed to swallow the rest of the word. "He is coming tonight?"  
  
"I told you this was a special ceremony, didn't I?" Malfoy smiled proudly and Claire thought once again that the wizard was positively insane. "You'll be witness to one of the greatest rituals you may ever experience. And you'll be truly one of us before this evening is over!"  
  
Claire's heart sunk.  
  
A figure stepped out of the shadows behind the crumbled ruins of a chapel. It was a ... no, not a man any more, decided Claire and pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp. She knew Peter Pettigrew from pictures - but this man bore almost no more resemblance with the chubby balding wizard she'd expected to meet. His nose, ears, and right hand were made of metal, a silvery material, that seemed alive and dead at the same time. Apparently his left foot had been replaced, too, because he limped when he made his way through the graveyard.  
  
Under his arm he carried a bundle.  
  
"What is going to happen?" hissed Claire in Malfoy's direction.  
  
"It is the Resurrection Ritual," he explained softly. "Flesh, bone, and blood."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Two of the hooded figures had started to dig in one of the graves and after a while produced a piece of bone - enough to make Claire wretch.  
  
"Bone of the dead," whispered Malfoy. "Peter will provide the flesh, and," he pointed at the bundle that had been placed on a marble head-stone next to a simmering cauldron, "he will provide the blood."  
  
Claire's eyes widened when she recognised that under the cloth lay a child, a very young boy. Not a baby anymore, he couldn't been older than one or two years. He slept or rather was unconscious.  
  
She started to shiver violently.  
  
A voice from the impenetrable darkness behind the ruins made them all jump.  
  
"Again we have gathered," hissed the voice, and a cold wind rose from the ground, "to call onto the Dark Powers. Again we shall give and shall receive."  
  
The hooded figures bowed their heads.  
  
"Those of you, who are new to our congregation, step forward."  
  
Malfoy gave Claire a slight push and she stumbled towards Pettigrew.  
  
"You shall receive my mark, and be a part of me. My eyes and ears, my allies and my spies."  
  
A great snake slithered through the stones and paused at Claire's feet, her forked tongue briefly touching Claire's skin. The snake returned to her master, and silence fell onto the graveyard.  
  
Suddenly Malfoy jerked and approached the chapel as if drawn by invisible strings. "The witch is with child," the voice of darkness hissed. Is it a pure-blooded child?"  
  
Malfoy looked back at Claire, who nodded, pale as death.  
  
"The Dark Mark would kill the baby."  
  
"I am sorry Master," wailed Malfoy, "I had no idea ..."  
  
"Why did you bring her before me?" demanded the voice.  
  
Malfoy went down on both knees. "She is the one who provides the money!" he whispered.  
  
"A pure-blood must not be risked," hissed the darkness. "But she has been a witness to this meeting, so we can't let her go without the Mark."  
  
"Why don't we keep her until the baby is born?" suggested Pettigrew. "Who is the father anyway?"  
  
"Some oaf named White," said Malfoy.  
  
"We shall keep her with us then," decided the voice. "And once the child is not endangered anymore, she'll receive the Mark."  
  
Claire heard the words and almost fainted. To remain with Pettigrew and ... Voldemort of all wizards ... was a sure death sentence. How long would it take them to find out she was a squib? Would they kill only her or the baby as well?  
  
Her brain was empty and her heart like ice. Time seemed to slow down to a standstill. And then, through a haze, she heard another voice from the back of the crowd.  
  
"I am the child's father. This witch is my wife. I'll take the Mark in her place." 


	14. Sacrifices

14. SACRIFICES  
  
  
  
Claire did not dare to turn her head while Sirius slowly made his way through the crowd. The relief she felt did not match the desperation that came with understanding what it meant for him to be present at this meeting. His ardent hatred for Peter had ruled his emotions for so long. There was no way he'd be able to withstand the chance to get his revenge now. And even if by some superhuman effort he could - since the incognito- charm had not worked with her, shouldn't it fail with Peter as well? After all they had been close friends once … And as soon as Peter recognised the wizard he had framed fifteen years ago, he'd call the Death Eaters on Sirius. No matter how strong or driven by hatred her husband might be, he stood no chance against all of them.  
  
Where she had been afraid only for herself and the unborn child, she was now afraid for Sirius' life. The only hope was that the charm held and nobody found out who Professor White really was.  
  
  
  
Sirius pushed the hooded figure away who stood next to Claire and took the place by her side. It was Malfoy's luck he had been called forward into the darkness behind the chapel, because had he been within reach, Sirius would have strangled him for bringing Claire to this meeting.  
  
He reached for her hand. Looking down at his wife, he forgot about the location, the company and the less than fortunate circumstances. All that counted was that Claire was alive. The fear he had endured during the last hours had finally forced him to face the certainty that had built in his soul for weeks. He loved her. He'd never loved anybody in his whole life, and he'd rather kept it that way … but he loved her. She drove him mad, she never obeyed, she was stubborn and foolish … and he loved her for that, too.  
  
Claire met his gaze and forgot to breathe when she saw the expression on his face. Nothing counted. There was no Voldemort, no Death Eaters, no mortal danger. There was nothing but him. There'd never be anybody but him. She'd never hoped to ever see that look in his eyes. But there it was.  
  
Now.  
  
Here in this place of death and evil and desperation. Here was love.  
  
She sank into his eyes, let herself fall and drown in the blue depths of his soul. He drew her close and brushed her forehead with his lips in a gesture that was soothing and longing at the same time.  
  
Then she recognised the robe he wore and her heart made a desperate leap. Black and white stripes, scarlet fastening ... The robe she'd hidden at the bottom of her wardrobe. The robe Serene had seen in her vision. Claire's fingers tug into his hands all of a sudden, so hard it made him wince. But he never took his eyes off her.  
  
"Are you well?"  
  
"With you by my side I am well." She would hardly talk because her mouth had go dry with fear.  
  
"The Mark," she whispered. "You can't take it."  
  
"You can't take it either." There was no reproach in his words, only calm acceptance of the hopeless situation. "Not even if it where not for our unborn child's life. I'd never allow it."  
  
"Sirius …"  
  
"You are a healer, baby. The Mark would destroy everything you give to others." He raised her hand to his lips. "What you give to me."  
  
"It will destroy you as well, Sirius!" Her heart grew cold. "I'll never forgive myself. It is my fault you are here. I should have listened to Dumbledore."  
  
"Whatever happened, Claire," he said so softly nobody but she could hear it, "and whatever is going to happen now … I want you to know that I love you."  
  
Her lips trembled when she helplessly raised a hand to touch his cheek. For a moment he closed his eyes and savoured the caress.  
  
"Sirius, I never …" Claire could hardly talk through the tears that choked her.  
  
"Don't," he murmured. "We'll talk about it later."  
  
"Why the delay?" demanded the hissing voice all of a sudden.  
  
Claire winced. There was no way out.  
  
Sirius let go off her hand and looked at the darkness. "Here I am ... Master … What do you want me to do?" His voice sounded calm and betrayed nothing of the fear he must feel, wondered Claire. They both knew that the Dark Mark caused excruciating pain.  
  
If this was the punishment for her foolish endeavour, the fates were without mercy. She needn't be a clairvoyant like Serene to know what was about to happen. Sirius would receive the Mark - that was terrible enough. But as soon as he faced Pettigrew, he he'd try to kill him. And without a doubt get killed in the endeavour. With Sirius' death her life would end as well ... Her mind spun. Her heart raced like after a long run and the thunder in her ears was so loud she almost did not hear the hissing voice.  
  
"You are the child's father?"  
  
Sirius bowed his head.  
  
"You wield power over this witch?"  
  
"I do."  
  
The cold breeze got stronger. Claire shivered and rubbed her arms but she could not get warm. She knew, she'd never get warm again.  
  
"Then come to me."  
  
The crowd parted and the novices stepped forward.  
  
Claire watched anxiously how Pettigrew turned his back to the crowd and prepared the potion in the cauldron. As long as he was busy wielding his wand and adding ingredients to the potion, Sirius was safe. But any moment now Peter would turn and recognise Sirius face.  
  
The novices stepped one by one into the ink-black darkness behind the chapel. Screams rose over the graveyard, sounds of such incredible terror and pain, Claire had to bite into her hand to not scream as well. Sirius was the last to receive the Mark, and when she heard him cry out, she could not hold back the tears any longer. Laurel had told her what the Dark Mark had done to Severus, how it had been like a tear in his soul where coldness would seep in until he was almost dead inside.  
  
She fell to her knees in the dirt and hugged herself, rocking slowly forward and back. All she could think of was the baby, so young and innocent of all the errors its mother had committed. And Sirius, her love, who had suffered so much already and now made this sacrifice so she and the child would live.  
  
  
  
Sirius stepped out of the darkness, seeking her gaze, holding on to her eyes like a life line. His sleeve was torn off and the Mark showed prominently. His skin was of an almost translucent paleness, as if the creature in the darkness had seeped every spark of life and warmth out of him. He moved slowly, in pain, but he could move on his own accord and did not crawl like some of the others. The crowd that gathered at the first row of headstones would not let him pass. Some of them tried to shake his hand or pat him on the back, but he seemed numb and oblivious of everything around him.  
  
Claire still kneeled and stared at him like an apparition. Not even the pain and the terror he just experienced had changed the expression of love in his eyes.  
  
Sirius still faced her when Peter Pettigrew turned and gave a sign that all the preparations were complete.  
  
"And now," the rasping voice out of nothingness announced, "the ritual. My servants have faithfully provided what I need."  
  
A wizard stepped forward and handed Peter the bone they had dug out from the grave earlier.  
  
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given," the crowd recited.  
  
The potion wallowed up and the rising stench of decay made the crowd step back.  
  
Pettigrew's silver hand flashed in the light of the fire when he drew a black dagger from his sleeve. Claire watched incredulously how he put his right hand on the flat surface of the stone next to him and with a deep breath hacked off his thumb. Blood sprayed over the marble, and Pettigrew screamed in pain.  
  
"Flesh of the servant, willingly given."  
  
When the member was added to the potion, the stench got so bad that some of the hooded figures started to wretch.  
  
A Death Eater wrapped a bandage around Pettigrew's bleeding hand. Pale, but determined Pettigrew then picked up the bundle and started to unwrap the cloth. The child still did not move. Raising the dagger over the little boy's heart, Voldemort's servant looked at the hooded figures expectantly.  
  
"Blood of the …"  
  
Claire paled in horror. They'd sacrifice the child! They take his blood right here, in front of her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Sirius, who's eyes were still riveted at her face, turned to the sacrificial scene.  
  
Pettigrew's hand froze in midstroke. The pale eyes bulged in shock.  
  
"Sirius Black!"  
  
His voice shrieked over the graveyard and frightened up the expectant crowd of Death Eaters.  
  
"Don't you recognise him? It is Sirius Black!"  
  
Peter had almost dipped over the cauldron in his haste to get a better look at Sirius' face.  
  
"Black?" The hiss from the darkness let the hair on Claire's neck raise. "Malfoy? You let my followers be invaded by Dumbledore's spies? You are getting negligent. First her baby and now her husband …"  
  
"My Lord, no!" Malfoy's voice trembled with fear. "I checked his credentials."  
  
"He is Black! Hold him, don't let him get near me!" Peter brought the cauldron between him and his enemy. The sacrificial dagger and the little boy still lay on the headstone, now completely forgotten.  
  
"What are you talking about, Pettigrew?" snarled Malfoy, gratefully using the opportunity to get away from his lord. He left the dark sphere behind the ruins and ran towards Peter.  
  
Sirius stared at his childhood friend and took in the changes in Peter's appearance since they'd last met. The silver parts gave him an eerie look, but the eyes were the same. Nervous, frightened and bold at the same time. He'd once believed that Peter was one of the courageous guys he knew. After all there was hardly a student at Hogwarts who was more frightened than Peter. Afraid of every shadow, every ghost, every teacher. And still he made it through the day, was even able to have fun and make friends. Sirius considered this incredibly brave - and it probably had been. He had tried to protect Peter just like he'd protected his younger brothers. But then there'd come a day Peter had cracked and given in to the fear, and had sought a more powerful friend. Only now his protector was the greatest threat …  
  
"I've known Sirius Black in school as well. This wizard bears no resemblance whatsoever to him," shouted Malfoy in anger.  
  
"Don't you see it?" shrieked Peter and held the ladle up like a sword. "Don't you see it is him?"  
  
Sirius leaped at him, and dipped over the burning hot cauldron.  
  
Suddenly all hell - or what was not gathered of it on the graveyard yet - broke loose. Out of nothing Aurors in their uniform robes Apparated between the headstones and moved in onto the stunned Death Eaters. White light blazed from their wands and lit up the scenery.  
  
People started to yell and run in all directions, fighting for the few escape routes. Sirius froze, his hands around Peters scrawny neck, Pettigrew's face was already blue. Claire, who had been pushed back by a Death Eater and was holding on to a stone for dear life so the crowd would not trample her, saw Sirius face get all empty. He'd told her before the Aurors would not take him back to Azkaban alive. And certainly not with a Dark Mark on his arm. So he'd die in the raid, would not fight back. Would not defend himself but rather attack the Aurors so they'd finish him off ... Right now the only question for Sirius was how to take Peter with him.  
  
She screamed in pain when one of the escaping Death Eaters ran her over. At once Sirius let go of Pettigrew and turned to her. A blaze of white light hit him right in the chest. For a heartbeat he stood. Then a shiver went through his body and he fell.  
  
* * *  
  
An insistent knock on his door woke Remus Lupin. He was still feeling the after-effects of the last full moon and it took him some time to surface from the wild dreams of running and hunting. He reached for his wand clumsily and mumbled "Lux". Rubbing his eyes he tapped to the door bare footed.  
  
When he opened he saw Serene, in her night robe, her open hair flowing freely over her shoulders. Raw desire hit him so suddenly he forgot to breath. For the span of a heartbeat he let himself believe she'd come to him. Then reason took over and he fought to get his breath back.  
  
"It is three in the morning, Serene. What's wrong?"  
  
She'd been crying, he noticed. His beautiful heartache had cried … She hardly ever let her feelings get the upper hand so something dreadful must have happened.  
  
Serene looked at him, taking in the dishevelled greying hair, the kind eyes, the bare chest, and had to dig her nails into her palm to suffocate the need to just hide from reality in his embrace.  
  
"Sirius," she managed. Her voice was hoarse from crying. "It has happened."  
  
Remus grabbed her shoulders, careful not hurt her. Around the moon he tended to underestimate his powers.  
  
"Serene? What has happened? What are you talking about?"  
  
"Azkaban. They took him back to Azkaban. I've seen it. I tried to warn Claire." Her breath came in gasps. "Why doesn't anybody ever believe me?"  
  
Remus went back into his room without another word and returned minutes later, fully dressed. He wrapped a warm plaid around Serene's shoulders and drew her close to him. For once she did not flinch but went limp with exhaustion. Her rubbed his cheek against her forehead and felt guilty for enjoying this moment so much while his best friend was in mortal danger. He had no doubt that Sirius was in trouble. Serene had been right about Severus a few months ago - and Sirius … well, he knew Sirius …  
  
"We have to tell Dumbledore," he said softly and let not go off her hand until they reached the Headmaster's quarters.  
  
Dumbledore expected them already. His face was drawn with worry and he had misplaced his glasses. "Percy Weasley just sent an owl," he said. "Rumour has it that Aurors raided a Death Eaters meeting near Glasgow tonight. They only got hold of a handful of people. Pettigrew, Malfoy and everybody of any importance managed to get away. But according to Weasley, Claire and Sirius are amongst those taken to the Ministry for interrogation."  
  
* * *  
  
Claire sat in a cell and tried to breathe. For the baby, she told herself, breathe for the child. Since she'd seen Sirius go down like a felled tree, she'd not been able to cease shivering. One of the Aurors had been so kind to lend her a cloak. They'd searched her for a wand and found none, but they'd taken no risk and cuffed her wrists with magical cords.  
  
Nobody had answered her questions. Only a dozen or so Death Eaters had been caught and herded together amidst the stones. When the Aurors had finished searching the graveyards and had not produced any more prisoners, they transported everybody by Portkey to a courtyard in the Ministry. From there they were taken to cells, where they had been locked away and left to their own devices. Claire had been waiting for what seemed like hours now. She had never been arrested before, but certainly there had to be procedures? Did she have the right to see a lawyer before the trial? Or would they just let her rot in this lonely cell without a trial like they had done with Sirius?  
  
She was cold, hungry and sick with worry about Sirius. The flash had hit him right in the chest. What if he was dead? Involuntarily she sobbed. He could not be dead. She'd know it. He was part of her, and she's know when part of her died, wouldn't she?  
  
A polite cough outside the cell made her jump. Running to the door, she rose on her toes to peek out of the small barred window, when she heard the lock open. In stunned surprise she recognised Ben Olsen, Malfoy's counsellor who she'd last seen at Gringotts where he bagged the gold she'd donated to the Dark Lord's cause.  
  
"Mr Olsen!"  
  
"My dear Ms. White." Olsen kissed her grubby hand and made a tiny nod towards the Auror who stood outside the open door. His face warned her to let him play his part.  
  
"What happened tonight is most regrettable. But I convinced the authorities that you have been framed by a wizard who wormed himself into your confidence, making you believe he was a perfectly honourable Professor at Hogwarts. While in fact he is a Death Eater and bears the Mark."  
  
"He is alive?" Claire's teeth chattered with cold and exhaustion.  
  
"Alive and soon on his way to Azkaban."  
  
She swallowed. "But … shouldn't there be a trial or something?"  
  
Olsen's eyes warned her not to insist any longer. "The Minister himself has reviewed your case and is convinced you are innocent. As for White … The Ministry need time to gather evidence, and there is no safe place for these despicable wizards but Azkaban."  
  
The Auror held open the door, and Olsen offered Claire his arm. She'd gladly refused but felt too weak to be proud.  
  
"Why can you get me out and not Sirius?" she whispered when Olsen led her down the ward.  
  
"It is hard to plead innocent for somebody with the Dark Mark on his arm." The counsellor scowled. "And Malfoy only advised me to free you, not Mr White. You have to admit he became quite inconvenient lately. Too many questions."  
  
"I need to see him." She stopped dead.  
  
"Impossible. They interrogate him at this very minute. And as soon as they are done he'll be on his way to the North Sea."  
  
„I demand it!" Claire looked at him as arrogantly as she could muster. "There are things I need to ask him. Business things," she stressed. Maybe if they thought that Sirius was involved in the Winterstorm business … But Olsen knew that she was the only one who had the authority to dispose of the Winterstorm fortune. "I need to talk to him."  
  
"About what?"  
  
She answered through gritted teeth. "Pettigrew accused him of being Sirius Black only seconds before the Aurors Apparated in."  
  
"So I have been told."  
  
"Well, is he? Is he really an escaped murderer?"  
  
Olsen frowned. "It is possible. There are charms, very elaborate ones, that can distort the face so nobody would recognise it. The old guys at Hogwarts could probably manage it."  
  
"Sirius Black!" She put all the scorn of a woman betrayed in her voice. "I need to hear myself that he deceived me all this time."  
  
Ben Olsen shrugged and went to talk to one of the Aurors. At first the wizard refused blankly, then Olsen passed him a small pouch. A few minutes later Claire was brought into a windowless room with no furniture but a table and two chairs. Obviously this room was used for interrogation.  
  
Sirius sat on a chair, his hands tied by magical cords behind his back.  
  
She turned to Olsen. "Alone." Her tone let no doubt she'd not allow him to stay and listen.  
  
"Five minutes," warned the counsellor and closed the door.  
  
  
  
Claire sat down at the chair opposite Sirius.  
  
He smiled shakily. "Bad luck, eh?" he said. "The Mark says I am a Death Eater, and I can't tell them who I really am."  
  
She said nothing, just looked at him.  
  
"It won't take long, Claire." Even now he tried to comfort her. "They say the Dementor's kiss is painless. But even if they take everything away that was good and right in my life, you'll be the last thing I remember."  
  
"You are pathetic, Sirius." Claire gave him a disdainful smile. "I know you think you love me, but you'd love any woman who'd provide you with dinner and a willing body, wouldn't you?"  
  
He stared at her.  
  
"Narcissa told me about your girlfriends at school. The losers. The weak ones. You picked them so nobody would see how damaged you were yourself. Just not strong enough to match with a girl who would not desperately need you for your looks and your reputation."  
  
"You are right." His voice was void of any emotion. Where she expected disbelieve there was a terrible acceptance in his eyes, as if he'd feared this blow to fall for a long time and was almost relieved it finally happened.  
  
"And then you married me. The squib. You had nothing to offer. All I expected of you was to protect me. Dumbledore said you'd be my bodyguard. "She shrugged. "I had my doubts, I remembered you well enough from school."  
  
Raising from the chair she turned away so he would not see her face. "And just look where you got me. You could not protect me from being arrested in this dreadful place. Just like you could not protect Potter and his wife. Good Godric, just to think they made you Harry's godfather!. They had no idea who they trusted their child's safety with." Claire faced him with clenched fists. "But I do. I will care for my child alone, and I'll protect it with all my power."  
  
She closed her eyes and stabbed the dagger right into his heart. "I don't need your love."  
  
And turned it. "I wanted a baby, that's right. But what would I need you for now?"  
  
And opened her eyes again to watch him bleed …  
  
"My child will survive. It won't die like your brothers and James and Lily. Everybody in your care dies. But not this child."  
  
Sirius just sat there, never flinching, baring his soul to her assault without defence. She'd succeeded.  
  
His eyes were dead.  
  
* * *  
  
Severus entered the dungeon from the side entrance to avoid the ghosts who loitered in the hall. Laurel sat up waiting, although he'd left her a brief note to go to bed and not worry. When he opened the door to the living room he took in the warm light, the woman in the deep chair by the fire and knew he was home. Out there was nothing but hell and destruction, but here was home. And this woman who for reasons completely out of his grasp, claimed to love him …  
  
Laurel's eyes widened when she saw his drawn face.  
  
"Was there a summoning?" she worried and put the book aside. Cupping his face with both hands, she tried to check if he was injured. He did not move, just stood and let her touch him, caress him, make sure he was whole.  
  
"No summoning," he said, his voice soft with exhaustion. "Worse."  
  
"Worse?"  
  
"Claire went with Malfoy to a Death Eaters ceremony."  
  
She gasped in shock.  
  
"Sirius took the Mark." He listened to himself talking and could hardly believe it. He'd seen Sirius step out of the darkness with the skull grinning on his bare arm. He'd tried to remember how he'd felt when he'd been made a Death Eater so many years ago, but all he could remember was the pain. Even now with his arm numbed by the potion, the Mark seemed to burn to the very core of his being.  
  
He shook his head to scare away the memory. "They both got arrested, Laurel," he whispered hoarsely. "I could not help them." He groaned and almost tumbled. "Merlin, I always hated Black, but I never wanted this to happen!"  
  
"I know." Laurel drew him into her embrace and soothingly stroked his hair. "I know."  
  
A faint whimper came from under Snape's cloak, but he did not react. So Laurel carefully pulled the heavy material back and saw the small bundle of cloth that he'd tied to the numb arm so he could hold on to the broom with his right hand.  
  
"What is this?" Laurel untied the bundle. "Severus, this is a child! Where'd you find it?"  
  
He rubbed his forehead. "Pettigrew was about to slaughter him when the Aurors busted the meeting."  
  
Laurel wrapped the cloth off the child's limp body. "He is unconscious."  
  
"Draught of dreamless sleep," Severus mumbled and fell into the chair by the fire. "There was so much confusion at the graveyard. Enough time to sneak in and grab the child before Pettigrew thought about it."  
  
Laurel stroked the small boys fair curls. He felt warm, but not feverish. Severus was the one who looked as if he had a fever. She wrapped the child in a blanket and went into the bedroom, where she put him in a makeshift bed in a laundry basket.  
  
When she returned to the living room, Severus still sat where she had left him, limp with exhaustion.  
  
"Your arm hurts," she said softly. "And you are burning."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Just to know that he needn't pretend with her was such a relief. "I feel as if a dragon got the better of me."  
  
Laurel conjured a wet cloth and a goblet of water, which he drowned like a man dying with thirst. "What would they need a little boy for?" she asked softly while she cleansed his face and hands of grime and dust.  
  
"His blood." Severus had almost drifted off into sleep. "Must talk to Dumbledore. Find a way to get those damned fools out."  
  
"In the morning." Laurel kissed his forehead. "Now you go to bed and sleep. There is nothing we can do for them now."  
  
* * *  
  
Claire held her head up high, when Olsen walked her down the long corridors of the Ministry. She pretended fear of flying as she had earlier when Malfoy picked her up. Olsen let her ride on his broom with him and she held on to his shoulders and closed her eyes. The cold nightwind helped her to concentrate on what had to be done. When the sun rose in the east Olsen landed in front of Winterstorm Manor.  
  
"Thank you very much," Claire said politely. "I'd ask you in, but it is early and my husband has just been arrested. I don't want the neighbourhood to talk."  
  
"Of course. "Olsen bowed his head. "I hope the next time we meet will be under more agreeable conditions."  
  
"What will happen to Siri … to my husband?"  
  
"Without a doubt he's in Azkaban already at his hour," shrugged Olsen and started his broom. "Malfoy tells me it was really a marriage of convenience. But you carry the pure-blooded child you wanted, and now Mr. White is not needed anymore, am I correct?"  
  
She gave him a cold smile. "My marriage is not your business, Mr. Olsen."  
  
"Ben." He took her hand to his lips and kissed it briefly. "You are right. Your marriage is not my business, but your widowhood will be. Just consider how far you could rise in the Dark Lord's realm with the right wizard by your side."  
  
"The right wizard. Would that be you?"  
  
He shook his head. "I must disappoint you, Claire. I have my hopes set elsewhere. But I am sure that Voldemort himself will find somebody for you. A wizard with a head for business. And with a fitting bloodline, no doubt."  
  
He took off and disappeared behind the roof of the Manor.  
  
For a moment Claire just stood and stared into nothingness. She felt as if she had aged for years since she'd left her house. Sighing, she turned and climbed the stairs, step by step, knowing that only when she'd safely closed the door behind her she could dare to fall apart and cry out what was left of her heart.  
  
* * * 


	15. Bought Time

15. Bought Time  
  
  
  
Severus woke up with a start. He had dreamed about the graveyard. Voldemort's voice calling him, enticing him to join the darkness again.  
  
His hand searched for Laurel, for the comfort of her warmth, but the bed was empty and the sheets were cool. He must have slept too long. Groaning he got up and under a cold shower. He'd have to report to Dumbledore, and then find a way to get Claire and Black out of the Ministry, before anybody found out about Black's identity.  
  
When he entered the living room, a strange sound made him halt at the doorstep. Laurel sat in a chair by the window he had conjured into the dungeon walls, and tickled the little boy's belly. The child giggled with pleasure.  
  
The domestic scene fascinated and repulsed Severus at the same moment. He had completely forgotten about the bounty he had brought back with him last night. But of course the boy was alive and had to be fed and taken care of, at least until his parents were found.  
  
"Severus." Laurel smiled at him and rose, letting the child sit astride at her hip. The boy beamed at him out of big brown eyes, and reached for his wand with a chubby hand. Severus flinched. He had no experience with small children, but he was quite sure that a wand was no fit toy.  
  
"We just had breakfast," Laurel kissed the boy's forehead indulgently.  
  
"Had we?" He could not fully keep the sarcasm out of his voice.  
  
She laughed. "Awful, isn't it? Hit me when I start cooing and crooning."  
  
The boy tapped Severus on the nose, and held onto his hair with surprising strength.  
  
"Can we keep him for a while?"  
  
He sighed silently and pried the child's fingers off the hair strand. He knew her so well by now and it grieved him how carefully she kept her voice void of any hope. They had talked about children and even though he was not to anxious to become a father, he had not fully rejected the idea. But it just had not happened yet. And with a pregnancy, he thought while he helped himself to breakfast, he'd have at least nine months to prepare for the inevitable.  
  
"He got a mother and a father waiting for him somewhere," he reminded Laurel gently. "Just imagine how terrified they must be right now."  
  
She gave him a brave face. "I know." Then, setting the child down on the rug, she took Severus' hand and nuzzled her cheek to it. Silently counting her blessings she remained like this for a moment. Who'd have guessed a year ago that he'd ever accept her touch so easily? Patience was the key word. There would be a baby of their own. One day.  
  
"We'll have to find them, you are right."  
  
* * *  
  
When Severus entered the Headmaster's study an hour later, he found the old wizard and Remus Lupin sitting in front of the fire.  
  
„Ah, Severus," Dumbledore offered him the third chair, "I hope the child you rescued last night is fine."  
  
Snape had long ago ceased to wonder how the old wizard knew about things.  
  
"The boy is fine. Laurel takes care of him right now," he reported. "We'll have to find out who his parents are and return him."  
  
"A child?" Remus was pale and had obviously not slept much. Already exhausted from the recent transformation, his face showed deep lines of exhaustion. "Where did you find a child?"  
  
Severus told him in short words about the events at the graveyard.  
  
"What would they need the child's blood for?" frowned Remus.  
  
"I have a theory. But right now we ought to deal with last nights arrest."  
  
Dumbledore rose a warning hand.  
  
"An Auror has just been announced by the house-elves. He'll be up here in a minute. I want you and Remus to be present and listen to what he has to say."  
  
When the door opened, Remus' eyes widened in surprise.  
  
"Cas!"  
  
The Auror smiled faintly. "Remus Lupin. I should have known you'd be here." He looked at the other wizard. "Snape." He frowned. "What is this? Class reunion?"  
  
Dumbledore held out a welcoming hand. "Castor Black. It's been a long time."  
  
Castor nodded gravely. He was shorter than his older brother, and more lightly built, but his vivid blue eyes betrayed the kinship. He wore the uniform robe with two stars at the collar and nothing reminded of the young wizard who'd been one of the best guitar players Hogwarts had ever seen. The perpetual mischief in his eyes had disappeared, and now there was nothing but sincerity and wariness.  
  
"I trust you already know what happened last night," he said, addressing Dumbledore. "I remember that you always knew things, even when we took the greatest effort to keep them a secret."  
  
The Headmaster bowed his head. "I know that the Aurors arrested one of my staff and his wife and accuse them to be in conspiracy with Voldemort."  
  
Castor winced when he heard the name. "One of your staff …," he repeated carefully. "Would that be my brother?"  
  
Remus gave him a shaky laugh. "Sirius? Cas, are you out of your mind? You know he is on the run since his escape from Azkaban. Do you really think he could invade the staff at Hogwarts where everybody knows him so well?"  
  
"Until last night I'd thought this impossible," admitted Castor. He dug in the pockets of his robe and produced a small piece of plastic. "But then I found this under the belongings of a Death Eater named White. He'd just been brought in for interrogation."  
  
Dumbledore looked at the small square Castor handed him. It was a Muggle photography of Sirius and Claire, both smiling into the camera.  
  
"I asked the Aurors who had arrested him, and they did not recognise him. But I did. It was my brother, and I don't give a damn about what spell he used to distort his appearance or what phoney name he goes under now."  
  
"But as far as I recall you were always convinced your brother was a murderer and Death Eater. So why didn't you blow his cover now that you recognised him?" Severus arched his eyebrows.  
  
Exasperated Castor explained: "Yes, I thought he was guilty then. But I had many years to go over the evidence again and again. If the Ministry knew that Professor White was really Sirius Black, they'd let the Dementors administer the kiss the same moment. No new trial, no opportunity of defence. So I decided to undertake some investigations before I said anything."  
  
Dumbledore smiled gratefully. "Well done, Castor."  
  
"So it is true? It was Sirius I saw this night?"  
  
"Sirius and his wife," confirmed Dumbledore. "The witch on the photograph is Claire. She and your brother got married a few months ago."  
  
"Can you help us to get them out of the Ministry?" asked Remus urgently. "There must be a way. Claire is pregnant, she can't stay in one of their cells for long. And you can imagine how dangerous it is for Sirius."  
  
"The Ministry? He is in Azkaban."  
  
"What?" Remus shot up in shock. "How …"  
  
"Hold it!" Castor raised a hand to shut Remus up. "I think I can demand some explanations. First, my brother bears Vol …, You-know-who's mark on his arm. I saw it through the one-way-wall of the interrogation cell."  
  
"He is my spy." Dumbledore's words came calmly and finally.  
  
But Castor would not give in so easily. "Second, this wife of his is not under arrest anymore. Her counsellor got her out. "  
  
"Her counsellor?"  
  
"Some guy named Olsen."  
  
"Ben Olsen!" Snape rose, white with fury.  
  
"The Aurors could not produce any proof she took part in the meeting. Olsen explained that she'd been taken there by her husband under false pretences. So they let her go."  
  
Remus gave a big breath of relief. "So Claire is safe."  
  
"She is safe," confirmed Castor and looked at the picture Dumbledore still held. "Is Siri really her husband?"  
  
"And the father of her child," said the Headmaster. "Why do you ask?"  
  
The young Auror raked a hand through his dark hair confusedly. "Because I overheard the conversation she had with my brother before she was released." He scowled in remembrance. "Merlin, what a bitch."  
  
Remus and Severus both stared at him. Castor sat down in the chair the Headmaster offered him and told them what Claire had said to Sirius, word by word as it was engraved in his mind. The more they heard, the colder the faces of his audience got. When he was done, there was a moment of stunned silence in the room.  
  
Then Dumbledore rose from his seat.  
  
"Remus, be so kind to ask Miss Kennedy to fly over to Hogsmeade and ask Claire to see me. Immediately." He nodded at Castor. „You must be hungry. The elves will fix you breakfast."  
  
Severus saw with worry how frail and tired the Headmaster looked all of a sudden. "Albus, let me …"  
  
"You must give me an hour to think." Dumbledore shook his head and closed his eyes warily. "Until Claire is here to give us her point of view."  
  
* * *  
  
Serene parked her broom in front of Winterstorm Manor and ran up the stairs. Remus had been in such a terrible mood she had not asked for the reason they needed to see Claire so quickly, but had rather done what he asked of her. For once.  
  
She'd not been surprised to hear that Claire had been released by the Aurors. But then she trusted her own visions - even if nobody else seemed to, she thought bitterly - and she had not seen Claire in Azkaban, only Sirius. She knocked at the door, and while the Winterstorm staff usually was very attentive, it took forever until the door opened and a distressed greenish face with blue-rimmed eyes looked up at her.  
  
"Miss Serene!" Peagreen sobbed and pushed open the door. "Oh Miss Serene, do something with Miss Claire!"  
  
Serene entered the hall. The Manor was silent like a tomb.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked Peagreen. "Where is your mistress?"  
  
"She is in bed!" The elf grasped her hand and pulled her towards the stairs. "You is to go and talk to her. It has eleven o'clock and Miss Claire is in bed!"  
  
"Is she ill?" Serene asked worriedly. "Is she injured?"  
  
Peagreen's eyes bulged even more. "She say she is cold. But she want no tea no chocolate no coffee no butterbeer no milk no peppermintsyrup." She threw up her hands in exasperation. "We tries. We really tries."  
  
"It's alright. Let me talk to her." Serene knocked at the door of Claire's bedroom, but Peagreen pulled her further down the corridor to another door.  
  
"Her Sirius' room!" The elf whispered loudly and pushed Serene through the gaping door.  
  
It took her a while to adapt to the dim light. She almost turned to leave because the room seemed empty when she noticed something in the corner between the bed and the wall.  
  
Carefully she approached the woman who cowered on the floor, curled into a tight ball, her face hidden in her hands. Claire almost disappeared in Sirius' leatherjacket. She shivered, but when Serene gently pried her fingers off the face, her eyes were dry. She appeared frozen, petrified.  
  
"Claire?" asked Serene, not sure what to do. "Are you ill?"  
  
She got no answer. Hesitatingly she shook her.  
  
"Go away." The voice was but a whisper.  
  
"You must get up! Just look at you." Serene kneeled next to her. "Your elves are out of their mind with worry."  
  
Claire groaned.  
  
"Dumbledore wants to see you. It sounded rather urgent." Serene grabbed Claire's wrist and pulled her into a sitting position. "It happened, didn't it?"  
  
"Yes." Claire sat up slowly, every muscle aching. She had no idea how long she'd been lying here on the floor. All she could remember was entering the house, walking straight up to Sirius' bedroom and wrapping his leather jacket around her like an armour.  
  
"Yes, it happened."  
  
Serene looked at her sincerely. "I am sorry."  
  
When Claire came out of the shower, Serene had laid out some underwear for her on the bed, and now used her wand to dry her friends hair. Claire tried to comb out the tangles, while Serene searched the wardrobe for a robe.  
  
"I don't want to see Dumbledore," Claire sighed. "I made a terrible mistake and he'll have every right to admonish me for what I did."  
  
"You are not a kid anymore. You got to stand up for what you did. You must not let them make you feel guilty."  
  
"I know. It is just … The last days have been kind of hard. Sirius and I … we fought. And just when we were about to make up, he got arrested."  
  
"Oh please! You are whining because of that petty argument the two of you had? He's still crazy for you, that was plain to see for everybody."  
  
"He isn't. Not anymore." Claire felt the now so familiar heartache when she remembered Sirius' dead eyes. "I … made sure of that."  
  
"Well, you'll have to make it up to him then. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, get dressed and get to Hogwarts!"  
  
Claire stopped braiding her hair and shot Serene a bitter glance.  
  
"I am not so tough. I am not … like you!"  
  
Her voice was accusing.  
  
Serene looked up, frowning. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You kiss Remus one day, and kick him the next. But I can't do that."  
  
Serene's bottom lip trembled and to Claire's surprise her eyes suddenly swam in tears. "I may kick him," she said very softly, keeping her eyes on the content of the wardrobe. "But I never kissed him."  
  
Claire gaped at her. The confession of the red-haired witch had let her snap out of her numbness. "You have not kissed him yet?" she stuttered and put down the silk shift. "But I thought … he proposed to you?"  
  
Serene picked two matching stockings. "He did."  
  
"He proposed without ever kissing you."  
  
"Remus is a werewolf." Serene turned and now Claire noticed with pity she was crying. "He has this idea in his head, about me being his life mate. He says he knows. He doesn't need proof."  
  
"And you?" Claire's voice lost it's bitter edge. "Do you?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Need proof?"  
  
Serene wiped the tears off her face with her sleeve. The robe was ruined anyway since that child of Laurel's had spit banana mush all over it.  
  
"I told you, it is just an idea Remus insists upon. He'll get over it." Sighing she threw a shawl at Claire. "I'd only make him unhappy."  
  
"But if he longs for it so much …"  
  
"I kissed a lot of men, and it never meant anything. But for Remus it would mean the world. That's why I won't do it." Blowing her nose, Serene pointed at the watch on the mantle. "End of this discussion, if you please. Dumbledore is waiting."  
  
* * *  
  
Claire entered Dumbledore's study and found herself face to face with three young wizards who stared at her accusingly, and Dumbledore who's eyes were dark with doubt.  
  
Before she could say a word, Remus Lupin jumped up, grabbed her at the shoulders and shook her so hard her head almost hit the door post.  
  
"What is wrong with you, woman? How could you do this to him?" His face was pale with anger. "Merlin, get out of my eyes or I swear I hurt you as badly as you hurt Sirius!"  
  
Claire didn't dare to move. His eyes had turned amber and for the first time she got a glimpse of the beast that lurked in him. The fine hairs at the back of her neck rose.  
  
"That's enough, Remus." Dumbledore's voice was soft but imperious enough to make the young wizard jerk back and let go of Claire's shoulders.  
  
For a moment they stared at each other, then Remus shook his head bitterly.  
  
"He loved you." His eyes told her of the pain he suffered with her betrayal of his best friend. "You were the first woman he truly loved. You should have killed him right there. It would have been more merciful."  
  
"Remus."  
  
He looked up and met Serene's glance. Calmly she held out her hand. "Come."  
  
Like a sleepwalker he let her take him out of the study.  
  
When the door closed behind them, Claire still trembled from the sudden attack. Gentle kind Remus Lupin, who always had a friendly word for everybody … Now he hated her. When she looked at Severus, she saw the same disdain. Even Dumbledore gave her the grave look he reserved for students who had severely disappointed him.  
  
The third wizard in the room she's never met, but he looked familiar.  
  
"Take a seat, Claire."  
  
Dumbledore pointed at a chair in front of the large desk. Claire shook her head stubbornly. She had no intention to sit like the accused in front of a jury.  
  
"I'd rather stand."  
  
"As you like." The Headmaster sighed. He nodded at the strange wizard. "Castor?"  
  
"This is my sister in law?" The Auror looked at Claire curiously. "You are Siri's wife?"  
  
Claire swallowed hard. So this was Castor Black, the only one of Sirius' brothers who was still alive. The Auror who had helped arrest his own brother fifteen years ago when all the world was convinced he was the one responsible for the Potters' death. The resemblance with Sirius was there, around the eyes and the stubborn chin. But his hair was rather brown than black, and curled where it reached the collar of his uniform robe.  
  
"I am Claire. Yes, I am your brother's wife."  
  
"Some wife," Severus muttered.  
  
Claire crossed her arms over her breasts defensively. She had known this meeting would be difficult, but she had not anticipated the fierce hostility from every side. Where was Laurel when she needed her? Her friend would have understood - or at least given her the benefit of the doubt.  
  
Silently Remus and Serene returned, and stood with Severus.  
  
Castor gave Claire a hard glance. "I heard every word you said to Sirius. And so did your counsellor."  
  
"But …"  
  
"Ben Olsen was a telepathic streak, he can read your mind if your defences are not up," explained Dumbledore.  
  
"No," Castor shook his head. "He needn't listen to her mind. It was an interrogation cell. Of course there is an adjoining chamber from where every word can be heard."  
  
"Did you know about that, Claire?" Dumbledore built a bridge for her. "Did you know they'd hear you? Is that why you acted so strangely? So they would not find out who Sirius really is?"  
  
Claire swayed. She had not even thought about the possibility of Olsen reading her mind, nor the Aurors listening to her conversation with Sirius. Would it have changed anything, she asked herself. Probably not. What she had done, she'd done to save Sirius' life, not his pretend identity.  
  
"No." She could hardly talk. Desperately she tried to blink away the tears. She had not cried yet. She had not cried with the pain, nor with the desolation. The pressure had built behind the dam of frozen emotions since she'd left the Ministry. But now the dam broke, and she burst into tears.  
  
Dumbledore rose quickly and came around the desk to draw her into his arms. For a moment she allowed herself to just be hugged and comforted by the old wizard.  
  
"Claire, tell us what happened," he asked soothingly.  
  
She tried to move away but he held her with surprising strength.  
  
"I love him." Her voice has just a whisper.  
  
"Then why would you tell him that you did not need him anymore?" Castor frowned at her. Dumbledore made her look at him. "Claire?"  
  
"I love him," she repeated helplessly.  
  
"Love!" Remus spat. Serene laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him, but he shook it off. "You knew about him. You knew how hard it was for him to learn to trust you. How he fought …"  
  
Something in his voice made Claire's last barrier break. Anger surged over her like a hot wave.  
  
"Stop it," she yelled at him. "Damn it, Remus, just shut up! What do you know? What alternative did I have?" Red patches showed in her tear-streaked face. "I had the choice to spare his feelings or to save his life. And I chose his life!"  
  
Remus' eyes widened. "Claire …"  
  
"I wanted him to live! That's all that counts. Yes, he'll hate me for what I said. I know that. But he'll live. The Dementors won't touch him as long as he is without any happy thoughts." Her voice cracked.  
  
"But how could you know they'd take him to Azkaban?" demanded Castor Black. He did not really understand what was going on.  
  
"She recognised the robe he wore." Serene left Remus' side. She searched Claire's face, her eyes serious and knowing. "Didn't you?"  
  
Claire angrily wiped the tears off with the back of her hand. "It was pure horror. First the Death Eaters meeting, Voldemort, the Dark Mark. Merlin," she cried out when she remembered the evening, "they were going to sacrifice a baby!"  
  
"The child is save," said Snape coolly. "Keep talking."  
  
"I knew Sirius would try to kill Pettigrew. And then the Aurors came in. There was no way we'd get out of the graveyard, not with Sirius strangling Peter. He told me before he'd not be taken back to Azkaban alive. But I knew Serene had seen him in Azkaban in her vision, wearing the very robe he wore at the meeting. And now, Remus Lupin," she demanded through gritted teeth, "tell me what I was supposed to do."  
  
They stared at her, understanding dawning at the faces.  
  
"I distracted him. He let go of Peter and came to my help, not even thinking about his own fate. So the Aurors took him by surprise."  
  
"And then Serene's vision became true." Dumbledore sighed in desperation.  
  
"But I knew beforehand!" Claire explained feverishly. "I knew they'd take him to Azkaban, and I had time enough to plot a plan."  
  
"A plan?" Castor shook his head. "If your plan involved to get Sirius down, then you did a great job."  
  
"She took away all happiness before the Dementors could do it." Remus' arms fell and his knees buckled. "I am sorry, Claire," he whispered hoarsely. "I … I did not think. I just felt."  
  
"I bought him time. A few weeks maybe." Claire clenched her fists. "And I know I am going to pay for it dearly."  
  
Severus rose from his chair and went to her. Bowing his head in apology, he did not need to say anything to make her know he was sorry for his assumptions, too.  
  
"He'll never trust you again." He put a hand on her arm. "At least I wouldn't. Not if you'd done this to me."  
  
"I know. I destroyed all we had." She stared into a void. "But he'll live."  
  
* * *  
  
Sirius lay on the stone floor in a corner in his cell in Azkaban and talked in his sleep. The minute he'd been returned to the prison, the voices in his head had started to plead again, and he put up no defence but accepted it almost gladly. Everything was better than the terrible pain in his heart, even the knowledge that this time madness would take him. When he couldn't sleep he stared at the wall, or out of the barred hole. But there was never anything to see but fog and storm gales.  
  
The moments he was conscious enough to ponder his situation he tried to come up with ways to make the Dementors notice him - so they'd finish what Claire had started. But those moments got few and fewer, and soon there was nothing but a haze of pain and hopelessness.  
  
* * *  
  
A week after the disastrous evening at the graveyard, Claire sat with Remus and Harry at the Quidditch stand in the early evening hours. They had decided to tell Harry the truth about Sirius' arrest. Sirius was his godfather after all, and he had a right to know.  
  
It was hard enough for Harry anyway to lie all the time and pretend that Sirius was Professor White.  
  
"I hate it to lie to Ron. And Hermione is just so damned smart!" he sighed. "She sees everything, and I am afraid she already knows the truth and just waits for me to come clear."  
  
"I am sorry, Harry." Remus remembered Hermione's scrutinising looks, and how fast she'd concluded he was a werewolf. "But it is necessary. The less people know who Professor White really is, the better."  
  
"And you know what?" Harry almost spit with annoyance. "Ginny Weasley got a crush on him. Since the birthday party she gets all starry eyed when she sees him!" Desperately he raked a hand through his already unruly hair. "I wanted to talk to Sirius about … things. But now it seems so vain, so petty compared to what happened."  
  
"It's alright," said Claire and gave him a shaky smile. "I am sure it would have embarrassed the hell out of him anyway. But you know he cares about you. He'll always have an open ear. When he is back …," she finished the sentence lamely.  
  
"Why did he get caught?"  
  
Claire winced. If only she'd listened when Dumbledore warned her not to attend any Death Eaters' meetings. If only she'd stayed at home that evening instead of foolishly thinking she could do it on her own. Sirius would be safe and sound now.  
  
"It was my fault," she admitted sheepishly. "He tried to help me when the crowd ran me over."  
  
"He always does things like this, doesn't he?" Harry hit his thigh angrily with his hand.  
  
Remus stood up and stretched his arms. Then he looked at the boy, leaning against the railing. "You know that Dumbledore once told me his theory about how the Marauders should not have been James, Sirius, I and Peter, but the three of us and Severus?"  
  
"Snape?" Harry coughed.  
  
"Just my reaction," smirked Remus. "But then he explained it to me and it made kind of sense. If you take us as a Quidditch team, then your Dad would have been Chaser. Always a flight ahead, never looking back, taking full risk with every action. I'd be the Beater, trying to keep enemy fire off the team. Snape would be a Seeker, watching, scheming, but acting fast when appropriate. And Sirius, " he looked at Claire, "would be the Keeper. Risking his life for what he has to defend. It's just the way he is. He can't help it."  
  
Claire gave him a grateful smile.  
  
"I remember the time when the Dementor entered the train. That was when you came to Hogwarts." Harry looked at Remus. "It scared me half to death."  
  
"I remember it as well. I was down and out, since it was the day after the full moon. And waking up facing a Dementor was not really what a poor werewolf wants."  
  
"Will they …," Harry's voice trembled, "will they hurt him in Azkaban?"  
  
Remus took a deep breath. He didn't want to lie to Harry, but how much should he tell him about what Claire had done to keep the Dementor off Sirius for a while?  
  
"He has been there before," said Claire calmly. "And he survived. He will know what do. For the time being."  
  
"I knew it! You'll get him out!"  
  
The boy looked at the grown ups, and they exchanged a glance of resignation at his sincerity.  
  
Then Claire nodded and gave him a quick hug.  
  
"We'll get Sirius out."  
  
* * *  
  
It took them weeks to develop the fine details of the crazy plan Claire had thought up. Dates had to be set, old debts called in, bribes paid and threats voiced. Castor Black was most important for his connections. He did all the paperwork, and returned to Hogwarts twice to confer with Claire, Remus and Severus. Hagrid joined them and helped to draw a plan of the prison. They went over the details again and again, until every step was fixed. They'd only have one try, and even this one was at a high risk.  
  
"Mostly for Lupin," explained Severus to Laurel the evening before the endeavour. "I am not in immediate danger."  
  
"Sure. You go into Azkaban, with all the Dementors around, with the Dark Mark on your arm, and there is no danger." She put her fork down and decided she was not hungry anymore. "Do you think I am stupid, Severus?"  
  
He rose and stepped behind her chair. Pulling her up, her turned her so she faced him. His eyes were dark with emotion.  
  
"Maybe. Stupid enough to put up with me all this time."  
  
"Stop it!" She bit her lip in despair and it made him want to kiss her. "We once promised each other the truth. I have the right to know."  
  
He exhaled slowly. "Yes."  
  
Holding her hand he took her to a chair and sat down with her on his lap. He found it much easier to talk like this. "The Dementors won't hurt me. I did not play the danger down. Lupin got the worst part of the plan, but it can't be helped." He kissed her temple. "I'll be gone for just a few hours."  
  
She sighed.  
  
"You better be back soon. Because if not ..."  
  
"If not?"  
  
"I'll have to go and get you."  
  
* * *  
  
Remus Lupin climbed the stairs that led to the top of the Astronomy Tower. He knew Serene would be up there, huddled in a blanket to fill out star charts for Sybil Trelawney. He had kept her company many nights up there, mostly talking, at times only lying on his back and looking up into the abundance of stars on the firmament.  
  
Serene did not turn when he silently stepped out onto the platform, but held up a hand halting him, while she made a last note in the light of a candle.  
  
Then she put the parchments and quill down and gave him a faint smile. "Done with plotting and planing?"  
  
He had not told her any details of how they intended to free Sirius yet. And now it was kind of hard to come clear. Sitting down on the blanket next to her, he hesitantly held out his arm.  
  
Serene sighed.  
  
What had Claire called her? Tough?  
  
She was not so tough that she did not need comfort and closeness at times. She was not so tough that she did not sense Remus' need right now. How bad could it be to just sit there and let him hold her for a while?  
  
She leaned towards him, and let her head rest on his shoulder. He relaxed gradually.  
  
"I must tell you something," Remus said softly.  
  
"Don't. Please, don't." Serene looked up at his serious face. "Lets just sit here for a while and not talk and not think."  
  
He swallowed hard and gently touched her face with his fingertips. If anything went wrong the next day, at least he'd have the memory of this moment.  
  
* * * 


	16. Debts

16. Debts  
  
When Claire exited the secret passageway from Hogwarts in the cellar of the shrieking shack, she heard a strange noise from the room above, but didn't pay attention. Now, with all the planing done, she could only wait and hope that Snape and Remus would succeed. But what then? How could she make Sirius understand, that she'd said those awful things just to save him, not to hurt him?  
  
She feared that Severus was right and Sirius would never trust her again.  
  
Deep in thought she climbed the wooden stairs to floor level - only to find herself eye to eye with Ben Olsen. Malfoy's counsellor stood, arms crossed, by the door of the shack, obviously waiting for her.  
  
"Olsen." Claire swallowed. How did he know about the passageway?  
  
"You must not forget I was a student there myself," he remarked, and with a growing unease she remembered that he could read minds.  
  
"We really need to talk." He offered her the only chair with a derisive grin.  
  
Claire remained standing , as far away from him as she could get in the small room, though distance would probably not prevent him from reading her.  
  
"I know about your nasty little secret." Olsen arched his fair eyebrows.  
  
"I have no idea what you are talking about."  
  
He scoffed at her blank face. "Don't even try to pretend! You are a squib, and there is no way around that. Don't make me force you to admit it." He drew his wand and pointed it right at her head.  
  
"I could let your nose grow, and you'd have no power to undo such a simple spell."  
  
She clenched her fists behind her back. What should she do now? Her mind raced. How could she lie to him when he could read every one of her thoughts?  
  
"I was suspicious from the first minute I saw you with that fool Malfoy at Gringotts." He patted the chair. "Do sit down. If it is any consolation for you, Lucius does not know."  
  
"How did you find out?" she asked, still refusing to sit. "I know you overheard my conversation with my husband in the interrogation cell. But how could you know at Gringott's?"  
  
At least she wanted him to admit he'd read her mind.  
  
"You must know I have a special, quite useful talent," began Olsen. "I can read minds, as long as they are not protected by mental barriers. With wizards or Muggles I never have problems, although most skilled wizards shield their mind habitually. But there is still a ...", he searched for the word, "a background noise. If I can't read the specific thought, I can at least tell whether they are happy or angry, whether they are honest or keeping a secret." His mouth twitched in annoyance. "Now guess my surprise when I felt nothing with you. Nothing at all. Silence."  
  
Claire's eyes widened. So all he knew was what he'd heard her say in the Ministry? Desperately she tried to remember what she'd said exactly.  
  
"So you must be a squib or a witch on the level of our common friend Dumbledore," the wizard concluded.  
  
"I doubt that Albus would call you a friend," Claire could not refrain.  
  
"No, he probably would not." Olsen smiled. "But you are on friendly terms with him. Albus, eh? And you are friends with the staff."  
  
"Maybe." She started to pace the room. "But what's it to you? I am a squib. There, I admit it. Now you are going to tell Malfoy and your Lord and Master. I know what they do with squibs."  
  
He gave her a strange smile. "First I need to know why you joined the Death Eaters, if you knew about Voldemort's ... prejudice ... concerning squibs."  
  
Her eyes flamed. "Isn't that obvious? The only way to survive once You-know- how takes over, is to have made myself indispensable. If you can't defeat them - join the. That's what my late father always said." Claire raised her hands. "The Winterstorm bloodline is amongst the oldest in wizarding Britain. Squibism is not a hereditary disease. My parents have consulted every medi-wizard who ever did research in that field. They all say I'll have perfectly normal children. If anybody should support Voldemort' s cause, it is I!"  
  
Ben Olsen scrutinised her face, but seemed content with what he saw. "Pity Dumbledore framed you."  
  
"He told me, White was strong enough to protect me. But not a word about him being Sirius Black! At least Black is from a very old family. Cousin Valerius traced his family tree for me - Black's family tree, not the one Dumbledore made up for 'Professor White'. The baby will be as pure-blooded as can be."  
  
"Your secret is save with me. But of course not without some compensation from your side." Pulling a sealed parchment scroll from his sleeve, he stepped closer, and Claire had to put all her courage together to not recoil when he pressed the parchment in her hand. "I help you and you help me."  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"This is a letter for a friend of yours. In the next weeks I'll want to contact Serene Kennedy once in a while. You'll understand that I can hardly just walk into Hogwarts and call on her. So I need a messenger, somebody who will transport letters and answers. Somebody who has no interest to report to Dumbledore ..."  
  
Keeping her eyes cast on the parchment, she nodded. "But how can I be sure you won't tell Malfoy? He'd deliver me to his Lord faster than you can say squib."  
  
"Malfoy is a fool!" Olsen all but spit when he said the name. "One of these days Voldemort will dispose of him. I'll need allies then, important allies, to take his place as third in command."  
  
"And I shall be such an ally?" Claire asked.  
  
"You'll be my ally," he confirmed. "And therefore I'll let you live now and let you live when we take Hogwarts."  
  
* * *  
  
It started to rain when the boat set Severus and Remus over to the isle of Azkaban. The fortress could not be reached by Apparating nor broom - Apparating was prevented by mostly the same warding spells that protected Hogwarts, and taking the broom was not advisable because of the strong northern gales.  
  
The two wizards had been asked to hand over their wands before they boarded the small nutshell of a rowboat. Now, after half an hour in the wild sea, Severus looked green and as if he needed a seasickness-potion.  
  
"There is a spell to calm the waves," he muttered under his breath and closed his eyes annoyed when another wave soaked them. "I really should fresh up my wandless magic." The troll who rowed the boat kept pulling the oars, unimpressed by the Potions Master's face. And Remus Lupin kneeled at the stern, keeping his face to the wind, breathing in the icy air.  
  
When they finally reached the boarding dock at the island and stumbled onto dry land, Remus looked longingly out on the sea.  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this, Lupin?" asked Snape.  
  
"Yes. It is only … I hate it to be caged." Remus shrugged and exhaled with a sigh. "But it has to be done, so I'll do it."  
  
A grave looking Auror expected them at the door.  
  
"Professors," he greeted them and checked their visiting permit. "One hour to interrogate your former colleague." He shook his head in disappointment. "What a shame! Now we got them Death Eaters in our schools as well … I'll take you up there. Won't do to send one of the Dementors with you." Laughing heartily about his own joke, he led them into the fortress.  
  
Snape made sure his sleeve covered all of his left arm, while they followed the janitor up a maze of stairs and corridors. It was a terrifying experience. From behind doors they could hear faint moans, and once or twice a cold draft met them from an adjoining corridor, though the Dementors did not get near them. Remus kept his fists clenched and his eyes to the floor, and even Severus showed some nerves by raking through his hair every time they felt the coldness.  
  
Finally they stopped in front of a fortified door that was secured by several locks.  
  
"Certainly all these precautions are not necessary?" asked Snape and studied the locks doubtfully, with a quick side glance at Lupin.  
  
"Not really, no," admitted the janitor. "Even if we left them doors open, there is still the walls to climb, and then there's the sea. But the Ministry demand locks, and locks is what they get." He started to open them one by one with a set of old-fashioned iron keys. "We search the cells for wands once in a while. You never know. Aren't many visitors around to smuggle them in, but nevertheless …" His glance told them in no uncertain terms that they'd better not be the visitors who smuggled a wand into a prisoner's cell.  
  
"Here you go. Got one hour with him. Though he won't be good company by the look of him.  
  
He pushed open the door and locked it again as soon as the Professors had entered. Putting a warding spell onto the door to keep the Dementors off for the next hour, he went down to his office at the landing dock again.  
  
The cell was dim and cold as an ice chamber. The chill of the northern wind seemed to seep in through the stone walls, and when Severus spoke up, his breath showed as a white cloud. Lupin looked around speculatively. There was not much to see - a board, clamped to the wall, that seemed to serve as a bed, a gutter in one corner, and a stool with a bowl and a stoneware jug next to the door. By the wall under the small high window cowered a man, hugging his legs, his head resting on his knees.  
  
"Siri?" Remus' voice was soft, careful as if he was afraid to scare his friend.  
  
Sirius did not react. His hair had grown to a shaggy mat, and in the month since his attack he had obviously not seen a razor. The robe he wore was the same Snape had teased him about the day of the Death Eater meeting. By now the once black and white striped material had turned into a dull grey, and where the left sleeve had been torn by Voldemort, Sirius' skin showed the same colour.  
  
"Black." Snape went down on one knee, and touched Sirius' shoulder. The prisoner flinched and looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed, his lips encrusted with blood.  
  
"Go away," he murmured wearily. "If I wanted hallucinations, I'd pick somebody else."  
  
The Potions master scoffed. "I bet. Sorry to disappoint you, but I am real."  
  
Sirius stared right through him, not hearing his words. He had started to mutter intelligible words.  
  
Snape looked at Remus worriedly. "He is in worse shape than I thought."  
  
"Siri, can you hear me?" Lupin hunched on his heels and took Sirius' face with both hands. "It is important. Concentrate!"  
  
Sirius groaned.  
  
"You must listen to me. We came to get you out of the dreadful place, but you must help us."  
  
He looked at Snape and shook his head. "I don't know what …"  
  
"Go away." Sirius' voice was rusty as if he'd spent a lot of time screaming from the top of his lungs. "Moony, you're a fool. What are you doing here?"  
  
"We came to get you out." Snape looked nervously at the door. They had a number of preparations to go through yet, and if Black didn't get reasonable soon, their time would be up before they were done. "You are not exactly helpful here, Black."  
  
"Fuck off, Snape," spit Sirius and closed his eyes tiredly, letting his head sink back against the wall. "I did not ask you to come. I did not ask anybody to save me."  
  
"Don't get all heroically on me, Black." Snape pulled a small flask from his sleeve. "Drink this and let's get out of here."  
  
"What's he talking about?" Sirius turned to Remus, who still hunched next to him.  
  
"It is Polyjuice," explained Remus calmly. "You'll turn into me and leave the island with Severus."  
  
Sirius laughed, a terrible wheezing laughter, that ended in a painful cough. "Sure, and let you stay here in my place." His eyes filled with tears, and he was too exhausted to fight them. "So you believe I am not strong enough as well."  
  
"Not strong enough?" Remus sighed. He understood Claire's motivation in hurting Sirius the way she'd done. But maybe she'd damaged more than could be mended … Anyway, first they had to save Sirius' life and later they'd care about his soul.  
  
Snape agreed with him. "Cut it out, Black!" he snapped. "We get you back to Hogwarts and give you the opportunity to discuss that matter with your wife. Now be a good doggie and drink the potion."  
  
The prisoner did not even look at him.  
  
Remus rose and scratched his head. With all the planing none of them had anticipated that Sirius would refuse to get rescued. While he stood there, thinking about a way to make his friend understand that they did not have time to wait any longer, Snape drew his wand from his sleeve.  
  
"Hey! Didn't you hand it over at the mainland dock?" Remus frowned. Of course Severus Snape was always one step ahead of the Aurors.  
  
"You don't really think I'd enter this hellhole unarmed?" Snape sneered and glared at the bare walls and the tiny window. "If only to kill myself before the Dementors take me."  
  
He gave Remus a strange glance. "I want you to understand that I only do this as a last resort. But you know as well as I that he won't come with us without force. If we stall any longer, the janitor will return, and then Black is truly lost."  
  
Remus nodded, still frowning. "What do you mean? What are you going to do?"  
  
"This." Snape aimed at Sirius and said: "Imperio!"  
  
Sirius' head shot up. He tried to fight the curse, but was no match for the brutal force of the Unforgivable Curse.  
  
"If the Ministry ever find out about this, you bought yourself a ticket to Azkaban, redeemed Death Eater or not." Remus bowed his head in respect. "You are taking a terrible risk for a wizard you claim to hate, Potions master."  
  
Snape scowled and pressed the flask into Sirius' limp hand. "I don't do this because of him." He shrugged awkwardly. "Well, maybe a bit. But first of all I do this to spite Voldemort. I do it out of respect for Dumbledore. And to prevent that Claire's child grows up without a father."  
  
At that Sirius made a violent effort and jerked his head, but then he gave in again and drank from the flask as ordered. Remus and Severus watched the effects of the Polyjuice potion, the werewolf with fascination, the Potions master with satisfaction. Within seconds the haggard prisoner with his shaggy beard and hair changed into a spitting image of Remus Lupin.  
  
"I am afraid you'll have to change clothes with him."  
  
Snape ordered Sirius to strip, and while Remus put on the grimy grey robe, Sirius shrugged into the clothes of his friend and obediently buttoned it up as he was told.  
  
"Now to the most important point of this endeavour." Snape put the wand on his flat palm and murmured something unintelligible. The wand started to move, reliable like a dial, until it pointed north.  
  
"Not good," sighed Remus, comparing the outlay of the cell, the position of the window and the direction of the wand. "I am not sure about the angle."  
  
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Snape asked again and put the wand away. Remus nodded calmly. The Potions master gave him a small mirror. "You'll have to try to catch the moon with the mirror." He looked at the steel-enforced door doubtfully. "Will you be able to break the door?"  
  
Remus snorted. "No door will hold me in once I transform. It's been years since I've done it without Wolfsbane, but I remember well." He put a hand on Sirius' arm, although it was quite disturbing to look into his own face. "I remember how violent I was."  
  
"Good." Snape put another small bottle onto the wooden bed. "Drink this as soon as we are gone. It'll put you to sleep for exactly 30 hours, so you'll wake up tomorrow evening. While you sleep the Dementors won't bother you."  
  
"And once I am a werewolf, they won't either." Remus smirked. "It has its advantages to be completely out of your mind."  
  
"Let's hope you are still reasonable enough to get out of here." Snape had agreed with the plan mostly because he could not offer anything better, but now, after seeing the fortress and the wild sea between the isle and the mainland, he had a dull ache in his stomach. "Are you sure you can swim all the way to the coast and make it to Hogwarts?"  
  
"As long as the moon is in the sky, there is almost no limit to my physical endurance," assured Remus. "As soon as I am on dry land, I'll rest for a while and run home the night after." He raked his fingers through the greying hair. "The only problem is .."  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"  
  
"I might forget where home is." Lupin sighed. „When I am a wolf the human part of my mind is asleep. The scent of a rabbit, the night wind, the moon … all this is more alluring than some castle full of humans."  
  
"Maybe," Snape gave him a side glance, "maybe the wolf can remember to get home to a certain red-haired witch."  
  
Remus groaned. "You really hit where it hurts, Snape. Now take my twin and get him out of here before the effect of the Polyjuice wanes. Don't forget to pick up my wand when you check out." He smirked. "How did you trick the Auror? I saw the piece you handed over, it was a real functioning wand."  
  
"Olivander gave me a replacement for Black's," explained Snape. "Said that in the long history of Olivander's Black was the first wizard who'd ever got three wands from them. Maybe next time he'll get a discount. Anyway, I gave the Auror Black's new wand and kept mine, just in case."  
  
He got serious. Offering Remus his hand, he checked a last time that the mirror and the sleeping potion were in Remus' possession. "Good luck, Lupin."  
  
Remus shook his hand and then, following a sudden impulse, hugged him. "Good luck to you too. Bring him home safely."  
  
* * *  
  
"He is doing WHAT?"  
  
Serene starred at Dumbledore with such horror in her eyes, the old wizard patted her hand consolingly. It was their weekly counselling hour, the sessions he'd offered Serene after she'd come clear about her visions some months ago. He knew he'd not heard the whole story yet, only bits and pieces. But he had to admit to himself he took great pleasure in just sitting with the young witch and discussing whatever came to her mind. There were certain subjects she'd avoid - like Remus Lupin. So he'd only casually remarked that she needn't be worried and that Lupin would be back in no time.  
  
But apparently she hadn't known about the whole endeavour and was now completely flabbergasted.  
  
"Dear girl, it will be alright. He'll transform tomorrow night, break the doors and swim back to the mainland."  
  
Her eyes were huge, her face pale as death.  
  
"A werewolf can do it. He's about the only creature who can break out of Azkaban by sheer physical force, without any magic," Dumbledore continued, worrying silently whether he should send for Madam Pomfrey.  
  
Serene rose slowly and withdrew her hand from his gentle grasp.  
  
"He did not tell me," she whispered. "He did not tell me he might die."  
  
* * *  
  
Snape's nerves were tight as steel ropes and he seriously considered using the Full Body Bind spell on Black and deliver him to Claire's doorstep, trussed up like a turkey. The wizard who was so exhausted he could barely climb the steps to his chambers alone, kneeled on the floor and stuffed clothes and books in a trunk, insisting he'd leave. But not to return to his wife, oh no, Snape thought annoyed by so much stubbornness. To run away. He had tried to talk to Sirius, but in the end he'd resorted to getting Laurel and hoping she'd get through to him.  
  
Laurel, in her calm way, had made Sirius drink a cup of tea to delay his packing frenzy.  
  
"Sirius, there is no need to leave right now. You are tired, you need to take a bath and sleep for a week. And you need to eat, you look terrible."  
  
Sirius shook his head weakly. "I am alright. I just want to get away. Please don't pester me, Laurel. I need to get out of here."  
  
The Potions master noticed the Dark Mark on Sirius' arm. He made a mental note to prepare a batch of the numbing potion for Black, so Voldemort would not be able to call him. Somehow he didn't like the idea of the Dark Lord summoning Black, after he and Lupin had risked their lives to free him.  
  
"Before you take the easy way out, we got some messages for you." Snape crossed his arms over his chest and scoffed.  
  
"Potter wants you to know you are a .... what was it again?" He pretended to think. "Ah, a stupid idiot for not noticing the golden snitch when it is humming right in front of your nose."  
  
Laurel suppressed a smile at the boy's intuitive understanding of the situation.  
  
"And Claire wants you to know she is calling in your debt."  
  
Sirius just starred at them both.  
  
"My ... debt."  
  
"Obviously you lost a bet or something and granted her a wish."  
  
"I remember." His voice was faint.  
  
"She demands you come home."  
  
"No."  
  
"She demands this night." Laurel shrugged. "That's what she said."  
  
"Have you left not only your sanity in Azkaban, but also your honour?" Snape's eyebrows rose tauntingly.  
  
Sirius paled under the shaggy beard. His red-rimmed eyes flashed with anger. "You have no idea what you are talking about," he said, his voice still rusty from not using it for such a long time.  
  
Snape shrugged. "Probably not. All I know is that you've been running most of your life. Maybe it is time to stop now, and mend the damage that's been done."  
  
Dumbledore had entered without anybody noticing him. Now he cleared his throat. When they turned, he smiled at Sirius. "Welcome back, my boy."  
  
Sirius looked into the fair blue eyes and felt like the five year old boy again, certain the old wizard could see right through him, into the very core of his soul.  
  
"Do me the kindness and give this to your wife when you see her." The Headmaster handed him a letter and a small parcel and patted him on the shoulder, as if he'd just returned from a weekend in London and not a month in the worst prison in the wizarding world.  
  
One more cheery smile, and he left.  
  
Sirius stared at the parchment, and nodded to himself. He'd go and see Claire. He'd deliver the damn letter, he'd do whatever she demanded from him - but only for this one night. Then he'd leave. He'd explain to Harry later. And the baby … He grit his teeth. He'd find a way to see his child now and then.  
  
Laurel and Severus let him leave without a word. Laurel shook her head worriedly. In her opinion he was not in the disposition to walk to Hogsmeade all alone. Gratefully she saw Severus follow him.  
  
"Black!"  
  
When Sirius turned, the Potions master's fist smashed right into his face, splitting his lip. He tumbled back against the door of the entrance hall. For the first time since they had freed him, Sirius' face showed any emotion, not so much pain as confusion.  
  
"What was that for?"  
  
"You mean besides annoying the hell out of me?" Snape cradled his hand against his chest and winced when he tried to flex his fingers.  
  
"I should have done this years ago when we were sixteen. Right after that prank you played on me. Now we are even."  
  
Sirius touched his lip gingerly and his hand came away bloody.  
  
Snape scowled at him.  
  
"You know, I never understood you, Black. I just didn't get it why you had to take everybody under your wing. I couldn't see what you gained from protecting all those weaklings." His voice got very soft. "Until lately."  
  
Sirius looked at him, understanding dawning in his arms.  
  
"Laurel."  
  
"Yes, Laurel," the Potions master nodded and his face betrayed utter despair. "She is so annoyingly independent. But I'd protect her against everybody. I'd give up everything for her sake, kill everybody who tried to hurt her."  
  
Sirius bowed his head.  
  
"So, I kind of understand you now, "Snape went on and sat down on the stairs. "But on the other hand I understand you less than ever. How can you leave Claire? You love her. Your face, your words, your actions - it all but screams it into the world."  
  
"And what if?" Sirius voice was like acid. "She wouldn't care."  
  
"Damn it, Black, she is just like you." The Potions master frowned exasperatedly. "She may look like the proverbial lamb, but believe me, she is a lioness in lambs clothing. She is fiercely protective of you. Yes, she did something, said something that makes you ache. But I advice you from experience to question her motive before you sentence her - and yourself."  
  
Sirius sighed and shook his head tiredly.  
  
"Too late."  
  
Snape stood and helped the other wizard to get up. "I know we are not friends, Black, but take my word on this. Don't blow your only chance to happiness. Don't let your pride overrule your heart."  
  
* * * 


	17. The Truth

17. The Truth  
  
  
  
Sirius stood in the door and did not look at Claire. She put down the ledger she'd been working on for the past hours to channel her nervousness, and rose from her chair to greet her husband. Still he avoided her gaze. The beard and the shaggy hair gave him a wild appearance, but at the same time he looked so battered, so forlorn, it made Claire's heart ache.  
  
He passed her a parchment scroll, his arm outstretched so he wouldn't by any means have to touch her.  
  
Claire took the letter and the small parcel and unrolled the scroll.  
  
'My dear Claire,' she read silently. 'I send you this as a last resort. Do keep in mind that the truth is a sword, it can save and destroy at the same time. So think twice before you use the contents of the parcel. Listen to your heart.  
  
Yours, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts Scholl of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and your true friend.  
  
PS. I trust your care with the messenger. Don't be too hard on him.'  
  
Deeply moved by Dumbledore's words Claire put the parchment and parcel on her desk. She had planed so carefully what she'd say, but now, taking in Sirius' weariness, she abandoned all explanations and reasoning.  
  
Eventually he looked up, his gaze defiant, almost hostile.  
  
"What do you want, Claire?"  
  
She twisted the hem of her sleeve to keep her hands busy.  
  
"I want you to stay," she said. When he shook his head, she added "this night."  
  
"No."  
  
"Sirius, I …"  
  
„Let me go, Claire." His bottom-lip was split and encrusted with blood and it was obvious it caused him pain to talk. "I am too tired to fight with you."  
  
She could see that, the dark circles under his eyes, the way he held his head. He was close to a complete breakdown, and it hurt her that he did everything to get away from her before it happened. There had been a time when he'd trusted her enough to allow her to comfort him. But she'd destroyed that trust deliberately.  
  
"You granted me a wish." Her voice was very calm, although she felt like crying. "You said I'd get anything I wanted. Well, I want this night."  
  
He bowed his head in silent defeat.  
  
"I am not going to play your little power games."  
  
"I am not talking about games," she insisted. "But I want you to do what I tell you."  
  
Shrugging wordlessly, her gave in.  
  
Claire took his hand and bit her lip in silent desperation when he flinched at the touch. Leading him across the hall into the bathroom, her thoughts raced. There was no way she could make him understand why she'd hurt him so badly. At least not in his present state. Yes, Severus and Remus had helped him escape from Azkaban, but his mind was still behind bars. All she could do for him now, was take away the physical pain, and hope that he'd be willing to listen once he felt better.  
  
Running a bath, she ordered in a calm voice: "Take off the robe."  
  
He followed her instructions without a sign of involvement. The robe, she concluded from the patches and carefully mended tears, was Lupin's. When Sirius finally stood naked in front of her, she gasped in shock.  
  
He had lost much weight, his rips showing prominently, and his skin was a dull grey. Where the magical shackles had bound him, the wrists and ankles were still raw. Her beautiful husband resembled a scarecrow - and she was the one responsible for this. All she wished for at this moment was being allowed to touch him, to heal him, but she knew very well that this was more than he could bear.  
  
She made him step into the tub and rest his head back against the edge.  
  
Rummaging in a drawer she found a pair of scissors and a Muggle razor, a gift by the craftsman who had built the semi-automatic appliances in the bathroom. Her father had used the razor only once, out of curiosity, and then had returned gratefully to shaving with a quick spell. But now the razor came in quite handy.  
  
Biting the tip of her tongue in concentration, she lathered Sirius' face and started to shave off the beard.  
  
Sirius closed his eyes. Having anybody work with a sharp blade so close to his throat should have worried him at the least, and yet he couldn't be bothered. What difference did it make if he lived or died? The warm water and the herbs Claire had added soothed the countless abrasions, and made him relax gradually, until he almost went under.  
  
Claire caught him in the crook of her elbow and used the opportunity to pour water over his head, carefully avoiding the eyes, working a piney scented soap into the wild tangles, until they were clean and shiny.  
  
When she asked Sirius to get up, he was so tired he could barely lift his tall frame out of the tub.  
  
Expecting her to start reasoning with him, or worse, to justify her actions, he shrugged into the bath-robe she handed him. But instead of confronting him, she had one of the house-elves bring a tray with soup and bread.  
  
Watching him eat, Claire sat quietly in a chair, her hands folded in her lap.  
  
When he put down the spoon, he looked up. "What now?"  
  
"Now you sleep."  
  
"Sleep?" He snorted. He was so tired that it was almost painful to keep his head from falling into the soup bowl. But how could he sleep with her present, the woman who had betrayed him once and would do it again?  
  
She could read his face, he recognised by the hurt look in her eyes.  
  
"In your room." She picked her words carefully. "Sleep in your bedroom. Have Peagreen guard the door, if you like."  
  
Hadn't it been for his honour, Sirius thought wearily, he'd left an hour ago. But now all he wanted was to sleep and forget about Claire, about Azkaban, about life. Without looking at her, he got up and left the salon.  
  
His bedroom was cool and airy, the windows wide open so he would not feel trapped. Normally he'd have been grateful for Claire's consideration. But now he knew that she did not care for him. Whatever she did, was done to further her own plans. She wanted this night? Well, she'd get it. He'd sleep, and tomorrow morning, as soon as dawn rose, he'd leave.  
  
As soon as his head touched the cool linen of the pillow, he was asleep. And his sleep of exhaustion was so deep, he never noticed the moment, when Claire slipped between to covers and drew him in her warm embrace. Cradling his head in her arms, she watched his sleep, until she drifted off into oblivion as well.  
  
* * *  
  
Claire dreamed that everything was alright. Sirius had forgiven her. His hands wandered down her body, stroked her skin ever so gently and caressed her breasts. Still half asleep she tried to turn and kiss him, but he pinned her down, grabbing her wrists, not allowing her to touch him.  
  
"Sirius, what …" she panted, suddenly wide awake, confused about the bitter scowl on his face.  
  
"Let me see how well you lie, Claire. Let me hear."  
  
"No," she moaned and tried to escape from his lock, but to no avail. He kept stroking her relentlessly, answering every instinctive move of her hips.  
  
"Sirius, don't do this to me ..."  
  
A sob escaped her and was quickly superseded by a moan.  
  
He used his knowledge about her body to punish her, showing her explicitly how much power he had over her. They had made love many times, but this was not love, this - him stroking her, teasing, suckling and still remaining completely detached - this was revenge. Claire felt like weeping when the tension became too much and her body insisted on release although her mind fought it with all the strength she had left.  
  
When it was over, she curled into a tight ball, cradleing her head in her arms, crying softly.  
  
Through her sobs she could hear Sirius' bitter words, while he rose from the bed and started to search for clothes in the wardrobe.  
  
"I needed to know if your body lied to me as well."  
  
She looked at him through a haze of tears and saw him stuff his few belongings into a bag. "I never …"  
  
"Don't!" he spit with so much disgust in his voice it made her wince. "I am not interested. Once the child is born I'll find a way to see it. You will not withhold this right from me. I'll always be the baby's father. But whatever there was between the two of us, is over now."  
  
"Sirius!" His name was a plea, and reluctantly he turned.  
  
Claire stood by the chair where she'd put her robe the evening before, and held a small vial in her hand.  
  
"Listen to me. Please."  
  
He gave her nothing but a bitter scowl. "You said you loved me, and you lied, Claire. You lied to me. Why should I waste my time with more lies?"  
  
Tears glittered in her eyes when she opened the vial and downed the content in one swift motion. In shock he saw her body shudder, her head jerk. He almost leaped at her, and pried open her hand to look at the vial.  
  
"What did you take? Damn it, Claire, what did you just take?"  
  
She blinked. "Veritaserum."  
  
Sirius raked a hand helplessly through his hair. "Are you crazy? In your condition …"  
  
"Albus said it would not hurt the baby."  
  
She felt very calm, her head very clear, suddenly cleansed of all doubts and self-deception. "I lied to you only once, in that room in the Ministry. And even then some of the things I said were true." She looked him straight in the eyes. "I don't need you."  
  
He paled. After all those weeks in his cell in Azkaban, where he had repeated these very words over and over like a mantra, it still hurt to hear her admit it.  
  
"But you don't need me, either."  
  
Sirius stared at her. What was she talking about?  
  
Claire raised both hands in a silent plea for patience. "We both missed out on so many important things. So much time was taken away from us, time when we should have learned …" She searched for words. "Instead of learning to trust, we learned to depend only on ourselves. And both of us got along perfectly fine, didn't we?"  
  
Silently he nodded.  
  
"I could go on like I did before, all alone, and I'd survive." She touched his cheek with a trembling finger. "But I don't want to. I don't need you. But I choose to be with you, out of free will. Not because somebody coerces or forces me, not because of the plan or because of Dumbledore. Only because I love you."  
  
Sirius caught her wrists and shook her so violently, she gasped in pain.  
  
"Why?" he demanded sharply. "If this is the truth, why that charade in the Ministry?"  
  
"You really don't understand?" Claire's eyes widened.  
  
"No."  
  
"Serene had this vision, remember? You laughed about it, but when I saw you at the graveyard in that robe, I knew what was going to happen." She clenched her fists in a vain attempt to hold back the tears. "You were happy then, weren't you?"  
  
Sirius' gave her a bitter smile. "Yeah, I was happy then."  
  
"The Dementors would have eaten you alive," she said very softly. "I thought, if I'd take away all happiness, you'd get a chance to survive until we'd free you."  
  
He drew in a deep breath. "The things you said …"  
  
"I knew they'd hurt you. It was my intention to hurt you as badly as possible. And I am not going to apologise for that, Sirius."  
  
"Why?" he asked again, his voice now broken with emotion.  
  
"Because I wanted you to live." She never blinked, and there was nothing in her eyes but truth. "You saved us, me and the baby, at the graveyard. You took the Mark for us."  
  
"I'd have gladly died for you that night."  
  
Biting her lip she gently touched the pale Mark on his forearm and this time he did not recoil. "But I don't want a dead hero. I want you alive. If it means you hate me now, then may it be so." Her hand fell. "But I'd do it again, any time."  
  
Sirius reached for her hand, gently now, and took the second, still unopened vial from her grasp. Very slowly he opened the small glass vessel, and swallowed the clear liquid, keeping his eyes locked with hers all the time.  
  
Claire watched his body fight the potion, as if it knew about the danger of giving up all defences. When the tremor subsided, he stepped so near, she had to look up at him. What she saw in his face, made her close her eyes.  
  
Sirius bowed his head until his forehead touched hers. Breathing lightly against her closed eye-lids, he remained like this for a moment, taking in her presence, the warmth of her body, her heartbeat against his.  
  
"The truth," he said softly.  
  
"The truth."  
  
He swept her into his arms and carried her back to the bed, arranging her over him like a cover, her head in the crook of his shoulder.  
  
"You say you love me …" he started awkwardly.  
  
"I do."  
  
"But why?"  
  
Claire raised her head to get a look at his face. "Why?" she repeated. "Because … you are Sirius."  
  
He closed his eyes and shook his head. In the dim light of dawn she saw tears glitter on his dark lashes.  
  
"I am not good enough." The words came so low she rather sensed than heard them. "I never was."  
  
"Sirius …"  
  
Burying his face in her hair, he sighed. "I have failed everybody who set their trust in me so far. My brothers, my mother …"  
  
"What makes you think that?" Claire felt the sudden urge to shake him, to yell at him to make him see how wrong he was. "You cared for them, when you were nothing but a child yourself."  
  
"Not good enough," he said again, his voice void of emotion. "I remember how they got sick, and there was nothing I could do but sit by their bed and hope they would not die on me. And in the end that's what they did."  
  
"But you must not blame yourself for their death!" Claire put a hand on his cheek. "Castor told me what you did for them. They adored you, idolised you. But their death is on Voldemort's hands, not on yours."  
  
"Castor?" Sirius frowned. "When did you speak to my brother?"  
  
"He helped us free you."  
  
Sirius laughed bitterly. "I saw you take the Veritaserum, so you must believe in what you say. But my brother thinks I am a murderer. He'd do a damn to get me out of prison."  
  
"Actually he forged a visiting permit for Severus and Remus. As an Auror this condemns him to Azkaban as well, if anybody finds out."  
  
"But …"  
  
"He was wrong all those years ago, Sirius. He made a mistake, and he is sorry for holding you guilty. You must not forget he was there when they arrested you. The circumstances, and your strange behaviour … everything spoke against you. And there was something else." She put a flat palm over his heart. "Castor knew how dedicated you were once you'd made a cause your own. He feared that you'd chosen the Dark side. And acted accordingly."  
  
Sirius started to softly stroke her back, almost absentmindedly, while he let her words sink in.  
  
"Your mother tried to visit you," Claire continued calmly. "From what Castor told me, she had not left her room in years, but when she heard you'd been arrested, she went to the Ministry. They would not allow her to see you. But she tried, Sirius. She tried."  
  
He held her so tight, she had troubles breathing. His pain was almost palpable, and still there were things she had to know.  
  
"Sirius? Why did you persuade the Potters to make Peter their Secret Keeper?" A tremor went through his body, and she was close enough to him to feel his heart skip a beat. "What made you think you'd fail them?"  
  
"I feared I'd fail them," he whispered into her hair. "If Voldemort ever got me, I'd have betrayed them."  
  
"No, you wouldn't."  
  
"A bit of torture, and I would have betrayed them."  
  
She laughed, unbelievingly. "You? The wizard who broke out of Azkaban to keep his god-son save? You, who let the Dark Lord burn his Mark into your skin? To save me from the consequences of my foolish actions?"  
  
"When Narcissa told you about my girlfriends, she was right," he whispered. "I protected them, so nobody would find out how weak I was."  
  
"But why?"  
  
"Who'd want me if they knew how weak I really am?"  
  
The confession shook her to the core. How could this man who appeared firm as a rock be so insecure at the same time?  
  
Rolling off him and propping herself on one elbow she looked at him intently. "You are wrong."  
  
"No." His smile was mirthless.  
  
"Remember what the centaur told me about your namesake, that star?"  
  
"Sirius B.?" He frowned. "The dogstar."  
  
"Right. A strong one and a weak one. They revolt around each other. And either one would fall if it wasn't for the other."  
  
He waited.  
  
"Nobody is just strong. It's human to be weak at times. You must allow it," she tried to make him understand. "Cause if you insist on being strong all the time, you force others to remain weak."  
  
"You are strong." Slowly he turned to her, his eyes shining in wonderment. "Those girls in school, my girlfriends, they needed me. Nobody ever chose me. James and Moony, yes, but never a woman."  
  
"I do."  
  
"Yes, you do."  
  
Sirius bent his head to kiss those soft lips, brushing, tasting, relishing the sweet mouth.  
  
"Claire." Her name was a whisper on his lips, almost a plea. Somehow she'd got closer to him than anybody else ever had. And now it was to late to sever the bond between them. He'd rather cut his arm off.  
  
Claire felt him grow hard against her. The Veritaserum made it impossible to lie to others, but it would not allow them to lie to themselves either. She wanted him. And he wanted her. Pride lost its meaning,  
  
She let her hands take possession of his body again. All the nights they had spent, so very close … She knew him so well, knew how to touch him, how to please him and took her own pleasure from doing exactly that.  
  
His breathing grew rougher.  
  
He slowly ground his hips against hers, giving her the sweet gentle love she needed. Watching her face, he took not of every emotion that flickered over it, how her lashes fluttered, how she bit on her lower lip. A soft moan rose from her throat as he increased the force of his thrusts. But still he kept control of his own craving for release, letting her set the pace. His reward was worth the strain. She clung to him, urging him to go faster, deeper, moaning softly into his ear.  
  
"Don't leave me alone, Sirius."  
  
Her lips drew a fiery pace from his jaw to his collar-bone, made him draw her even closer, melding with her until there was nothing than the sensation of being with her, of being in her.  
  
His breath came in great ragged gasps.  
  
"I'll never leave you, baby. Never."  
  
After this, he could not talk anymore because she took possession of his mouth, her tongue taking up the rhythm of his thrusts.  
  
"Sirius," she moaned into his mouth, a sweet invocation on the crest of passion. When he buried himself deep in her, Claire felt the first wave of heat flood her. He filled her completely, their bodies fitting each other like two halves of a whole, adding up to something that was even more. And then the world came apart with a fierce jolt of enrapture.  
  
Before they drifted off into sleep, Sirius drew her in his arms, and nuzzled his cheek against her ear. "There is one thing I need to know," he murmured.  
  
"Hmm …"  
  
"Why did you go with Malfoy when he invited you to the Death Eaters' meeting? Why did you not listen to Albus?"  
  
She sighed. "I … No, it is too foolish now that I look back."  
  
"Tell me." He pulled the covers over their heads so the grey light of dawn and reality were shut out. "I need to know."  
  
"I wanted to give you something," she admitted hesitantly.  
  
"Give me something?"  
  
Even in the darkness Claire knew he frowned. "I was so happy about the baby," she tried to explain. "And I wanted to give you something in return."  
  
Sirius snorted. "This is not a business deal."  
  
"I know." She kissed the pulse of his neck. "But that's how my life was until I met you. It is a habit hard to shake off. Anyway, I decided I'd try to give you the three things you wanted most."  
  
"Three things?" he asked somewhat distracted by her caresses. "Wait. One of them was the evening of Harry's birthday party, wasn't it? When you came to me …"  
  
She chuckled softly.  
  
"Another one was convincing Harry to stay with us," he speculated. "But why would you have to join the Death Eaters?"  
  
"I wanted to give you your revenge. I wanted to find a way to get to Peter Pettigrew," she whispered, almost embarrassed about how naïve she'd been a month ago.  
  
He froze. "You thought the thing I wanted most, was Peter Pettigrew? Revenge?"  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
"No." He laid a flat hand over her slight bump. "This is what I wanted. A child. Harry. You. A family." Sighing contentedly, he settled back, spooning her, her hair a soft pillow for his head. "And now sleep. Tomorrow will be a day of hard decissions."  
  
* * *  
  
When Claire woke up hours later, she was alone. For a moment she was sure that everything had just been wishful thinking. A dream, nothing else. The she felt the exquisite exhaustion, that came only from making love for hours, from delivering her body to the mercy of Sirius completely, and she sighed in relief. What ever the future brought, they'd work it out together. He said, he loved her. And maybe one day, he'd learn to trust her again.  
  
Getting up, she slipped into the bath-robe Sirius had discarted the evening before, and went into her room, to choose a robe.  
  
When she opened the door, she almost stumbled over Peagreen. The elve sat on the floor right in front of the bedroom and hummed a tune - or what was considered a tune by elves.  
  
"Miss Claire!" she beamed. "Your Sirius he be back!"  
  
"Yes, he is back," ssmiled Claire, touched by the open joy in the elf's eyes.  
  
"He does not want to wake you, but tell Peagreen to tell you …" she scratched her head, "tell you to come to Hogwarts, will you please. He must make plans because he is running."  
  
"He is running?" Claire felt her stomache clench. "Did he say that?"  
  
Peagreen shook her head and tried to remember the exact words. "He say he be hunted by a Dark Lord and the Ministry. And he must go on the run, soon."  
  
Claire sighed. In her happiness she'd ignored reallity, but it had fought its way back into her life. Of course he'd have to leave. Not only would he be on the "wanted" list of the Ministry as soon as Remus Lupin broke out of Azkaban this evening. But even worse, Voldemort would call his newest Death Eater, when he heard about the escape. Since Olsen was convinced that her husband was indeed the famed Sirius Black, they'd do anything to get hold of Dumbledore's spy.  
  
  
  
She entered Hogwarts with the familiar feeling of weariness. For others this might be a place of good and happy memories, but for her it was nothing but the place where bad messages were delivered, where vicious plans were blotted, and desperate meassures considered.  
  
The castle lay quiet, one almost got the impression that it was empty. Claire knew that this would change as soon as the students were released from class, but right now she was all alone, standing in the entrance hall, waiting for anybody to ask where she'd find her husband or the Headmaster.  
  
While she still stood there, Sirius and Dumbledore entered the hall, both looking very serious.  
  
Claire's heart jumped when she saw her husband's eyes light up at her sight. Without the dreadfull beard he looked better, if still tired.  
  
Dumbledore took both her hands and gave her a gentle smile. Without saying anything, he let her know how glad he was that she and Sirius had made up.  
  
Sirius cleared his throat. "Would you mind to give us a minute in privacy, Albus?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "Of course not. But before you talk to your wife, there is something I'd like to show you. Both of you."  
  
He made them sit down at the stairs.  
  
"Won't the students wonder why we sit here?" asked Sirius, only to have the Headmaster chuckle to himself.  
  
"Class will not end for another fifteen minutes," he said eventually. "They won't like it, but there is nothing they can do about it. You know how sometimes the minutes stretch to eternity? Well, now is one of these times …"  
  
He snipped his fingers and the great hall went pitch dark. Instinctively Claire felt for Sirius' hand and could not suppress a small sigh of contentness when he laid an arm around her shoulders. He'd leave, she knew it and understood why it had to be. All her dreams about Sirius growing old with her, bringing up their child together - they were but dreams. But right now there was nothing more real than this embrace.  
  
Dumbledore's voice came strangely bodiless through the thick darkness that filled the hall.  
  
"It is important that you understand what is going on," he explained. "I let Laurel see this, and it won't hurt if you see it as well."  
  
He snipped his fingers again, and in a far corner a tiny flame came alive.  
  
"Many years ago there was a wizard who thought he was weak and evil." The Headmaster's voice was but a whisper. "And still he was strong enough to oppose Voldemort."  
  
"Severus," said Sirius softly.  
  
"Yes, Severus. The one we all thought lost, decided to return. And if he could return, so can everybody."  
  
The flame flickered and fought, but kept burning bravely.  
  
"I spent a long time thinking about what Severus' decission meant for us all. A light in the darkness. So what if there were many more? Would there be a moment when darkness was defeated?"  
  
Another candle appeared.  
  
"A wizard sacrificing his life to save his wife. A mother, trying to protect her child."  
  
Claire felt Sirius tense and gently rubbed her cheek against the hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Jamie and Lily," he said hoarsely.  
  
"What they did will not be forgotten." Dumbledore stepped in front of the floating flames. "As so many others."  
  
One by one flames appeared, small ones and bright ones. "It is all about love," explained Dumbledore softly. "Love for a child, love for a friend, love for a witch or a wizard."  
  
The flames formed a circle that was only now and then interrupped by spots of lingering darkness.  
  
"I want you to understand, that as much as we all love Harry, as much as we must try to protect him, it is not he who will save us all." The old wizard's almost became a sigh. "It is love. Not simple. Never easy. And still, the only hope we have."  
  
For a moment there was only silence, while the flames burned and threw their warm light onto the Headmasters face. Claire saw there were tears in his eyes, and she reached out to press his hand.  
  
He smiled gently and turned to face the darkness beyond the circle of light.  
  
"Soon, Tom," he said very softly. "It will be over soon."  
  
Like a vision he dissapeared from their eyes, leaving Claire und Sirius sitting on the stairs.  
  
Still in awe of what they had just witnessed, Claire let her head sink onto Sirius' shoulder.  
  
"Love," she said calmly. "He is right. It is the only thing that counts. I'll remember that when you are gone. And I want you to know that I'll always love you. Whatever the future brings."  
  
"That's what we need to talk about." Sirius rose from the stairs and stood in front of her. "You understand, that I can't endanger you and the baby. If Voldemort ever finds out you are still in contact with me …"  
  
She stiffled a sob. "I know. It's only that I wish so much you could stay."  
  
He drew in a big breath, as if he needed to gather all his courage. Then he went down on one knee and took Claire's small hand in his.  
  
"I never proposed to you," he said.  
  
She smiled tearfully. "No, you didn't."  
  
"Claire, there may be a way to stay together." His eyes held hers capitive. "But I need to know if this is what you really want."  
  
"Being with you?" She touched his cheek, dismayed at his doubts. "Would you let me come with you when you leave? I won't mind being poor, Sirius, I won't mind leaving everything behind. If only I can be with you."  
  
Sirius put her hand to his mouth and gently kissed her open palm. Looking up at her, he cleared his throat.  
  
"Claire Winterstorm," he said softly. "Will you be my Secret Keeper?"  
  
Her tearstreaked face lit up until it beamed brighter than all the candles in the darkness. The look of unconditional love and fierce determination in her eyes made Sirius forget all his fears and doubts. He'd be with her and his child. They'd be together, save and whole. And he'd be home, in her heart, forever.  
  
With infinite tenderness Claire cupped his face with both hands, and kissed his lips.  
  
"Yes," she said. "I do."  
  
* * *  
  
The End.  
  
Or not …  
  
Well, I'd have to lie if I said I liked Sirius when I first read about him in "PoA". I mean - Severus was like a lightning bolt, and Remus … Who would not love Remus?  
  
But Sirius?  
  
I was not even sure if it was a good idea to let him show up in "Whole again - Severus". But then he did something very Sirius-like. He took charge. He became a person where I only meant him to be an extra in the background.  
  
Let me take a moment to thank you all. I enjoyed your reviews so much! I learned a lot in the course of writing this story. Thank you also for correcting - or ignoring - my awkward grammar and my spelling mistakes.  
  
If I'd write this in German it would be a lot easier - but you probably would not read it …  
  
Anyway, I loved writing "Whole again - Sirius" - and since I am not good at letting go, and I made some fictional characters miserable without saving them, there will be a third story - about Serene and Remus.  
  
Whatever happens on the way there - I believe in happy endings. 


End file.
